Now and Then: Marauder Era, Years 1 & 2
by KlioStar
Summary: Travel back to where it all started: the 1970s, where the threads that tightly hold the magical world together will be tested: the power of blood lineage, the roles of magical creatures, and friendship. Despite the light comraderies, days are darkening.
1. Prologue

Summary: Travel back to where it all started: the 1970s, where new beginnings and awakenings are slowly coming into the light. At Hogwarts, the Marauders have just met each other and begun their ultimate legacy, while Lily Evans and Alice Kennicott are wondering if their friendship is the stuff of legend as well. But the setting behind such bright days is darkening with the rise of the use of dark magic and abundance of dark creatures and wizards, all whispering of a leader whom no one seems to know. The threads that tightly hold the magical world together - the power of blood lineage, the roles of magical creatures, and friendship - will be tested in this first part of a five fanfiction series.

This story begins the saga of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans, Alice Kennicott (the future Alice Longbottom), and an OC, Riona Dyrdra during and after Hogwarts, including other cannon characters whom we don't know much about in the HP world. It will be written from all of their viewpoints, both in third perspective and first perspective. I'll make it easy to figure out which is which.

Also, this story will be fairly short, as the following stories in the series will be a bit more complex. This first fanfic encompasses the characters' first and second years…and well, I'll let the prologue fill you in with the rest. As always, comments are very much appreciated.

Rated for mild language and violence.

* * *

**Now** _and_ **_Then_**

Copyright by Liliana R., August 28, 2005. 

_Prologue_

A scurry of quill scratching upon empty parchment was the only sound heard in the silent, almost egg-shaped office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Besides the crystal-shaped twinkling of the stars set across the velvet night sky behind him, only a large, fat candle lit the small room for the Headmaster's hand, its flame dancing upon the set of silver hair and wizened yet energetic face. However, this night was different than the usual nights the Headmaster had stayed up to finish some last minute work: tonight, instead of the easy concentration on his face, the Headmaster wore a mask that, before his peers, he would certainly wear well, but in the loneliness of his office and thoughts was slowly slipping away to reveal a straining anxiety. The hard scratching of the quill was almost bearing a whole into the parchment, until a faint _click, click _upon the expansive windowpane behind him caused the Headmaster to instantly drop his quill, his lanky, towering shoulders tensing as though expecting the worst.

Yet when he saw a gray owl blinking expectantly at him from his window, the Headmaster gave a relieved sigh that he couldn't manage to hold back and stood up to open the window, taking the small, brown package which the owl held out to him on his right leg. Giving a sharp hoot of urgency, the owl prodded at the package, as though he were eager for the Headmaster to open it, and then took flight, spreading his long, gray wings against the dark sky and sped off, enveloped into the silent night. Taking the note tied to the package and opening it, the Headmaster's startlingly bright blue eyes narrowed into a shrewd gaze.

To Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Headmaster's office.

_I have come to believe that my ownership of these books isn't entirely mine to keep anymore. There is someone who needs these much more than I have ever done, and I think it's time for him to receive it. I hope they will serve Harry well, and aid you in any_ _of your attempts to end this second war. Although I may not take part in your quest for my own reasons, know that I am supporting you in everything that you choose to do, Dumbledore, and only ask that you respect the wishes of the authors in these books. They still remain very dear to me, despite everything that has happened. _

_**R. D.**_

_P.S. I have included that which I think may seem appropriate for Harry to know._

Dumbledore peered at five very slim, leather bound journals, and reached for his wand. Muttering under his breath, Dumbledore touched his wand upon each of the books several times, but nothing happened. At this, his steady suspicious gaze morphed into one of skepticism and, most of all, a spread of curiosity that has been accustomed to tread the Headmaster's wrinkled but lively face.

He sat down upon his winged armchair and examined the first journal, marked with the words: "Years 1 and 2," above the initials _J. F. P. _embossed in a twirling, golden script on the front cover. Just below these initials were the ones _S.B_. (this one with its middle initial savagely scratched out), followed by _R.J.L, L. E. E., P.G.P., A.M.K.,_. and finally, the initials of the letter's writer: _R.D._ The four other journals were also the same, each having the same initials set upon the deep brown leather coverings, yet they were each marked with different titles: the second journal was "Years 3 and 4," but the last three were each dedicated to one year, finally ending in "Year 7" – this one's leather binding quite worn, its parchment very yellowed.

"Quite curious, quite curious indeed," Dumbledore frowned, fixing his half-moon shaped spectacles squarely upon his rather long nose. "But…I believe I know what these may contain…they are, after all, magical journals…and, knowing who wrote them, they may very well be extremely useful…"

And with that, Dumbledore stretched a long finger and flipped open the cover of the one journal marked with "Years 1 and 2," and began to read in the soft candlelight.

------


	2. One: The Purest of Parties

**One**: The Purest of Parties

This was a challenge. And as with every challenge, James Potter rose to the occasion with amazing wit and fortitude.

Taking a deep breath and knowing that the following words would ruin his competition for good, he declared, "Mum, I'm not going."

"Oh, yes you are," Mrs. Potter said in her calmest of voices, flipping through her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and eying an advertisement for a sale at Madame Malkins' witches' robes. "Now eat your porridge, James darling. There will be plenty of goodies at the party, and I want you to at least have something wholesome in that bottomless stomach of yours."

Frowning, James tried a different tactic, the tactic that usually makes most mothers eye their adoring, obedient (James forced a grin down at this thought) sons with pity.

"Mum…I don't think I want to go."

"You're eleven, darling, you don't know where you want to go."

His mum wasn't most mothers.

"If I'm old enough to be shipped off to Hogwarts, then I should be old enough to decide

whether I want to go," James Potter retorted, arching a black eyebrow at his mother, who slowly put down her paper and met his shrewd look.

_Score! She's looking back – sure sign of defeat._

Estelle Potter pursed her mouth, although her warm brown eyes were twinkling as craftily as her son's were staring back at her. "Well, then…good point. I suppose that I can make a deal with you, since you are such a big lad. If you finish all of your porridge before your father gets back from work to go to the party, then you don't have to go. How's that?"

James grinned to himself, flipping his glasses on top of his head in his usual gesture of triumph, and squinted down at the murky brown porridge in his bowl. The porridge gulped a burping bubble in response. He didn't know why his mother was so set on his going to the party this afternoon. It was only going to be another stuffy party for all of the families his parents had known for all of their lives. They would be endlessly blabbing throughout the entire party while valiantly trying to keep James silent, and there was sure to be nothing interesting gained from trying to stay quiet and smile at old aunts who tried to squeeze your cheeks out.

_But…if that's the condition…_ James shrugged and dived his spoon into the bowl, grimacing at his mother as she read the newspaper. He finished it within a few minutes, his insides thick with the slimy stuff, but his face filled with the biggest smile.

"Oy, Mum – " James handed his empty bowl to his mother, who examined it carefully, then inspected his hands to see if he had hidden his breakfast anywhere.

"Right then," Mrs. Potter said briskly, setting the empty bowl on the table. "Oh, James – be a darling and look after Karos, will you? His food bowl is quite empty."

Still strutting with victory and relief, James walked to their owls' cage perched beside the kitchen counter, and peeked into their midnight black owl's cage, but saw that there was still some food left. He petted Karos's silky feathers as the owl shifted and continued to sleep.

"Mum, he has enough food –" James stopped as he was coming back to the breakfast table, horrified to see that he had some porridge left in his bowl.

"What – why –"

Mrs. Potter took in his bowl, and shook her head, going back to her paper. "Tut, tut, James…you still have some left. Go on and eat it now – your father will be here any minute."

"But, I know I finished!" James frowned, flicking the porridge with annoyed fingers. "I know I did – didn't you see –"

"Eat with your spoon, not with your hands, darling – you are not a troll," said Mrs. Potter, placing her wand back into her robes ever so quietly while James dug into his porridge once more with a scowl. "I saw no such thing – there's porridge there, and you should fulfill part of your deal if you don't want to go. You _are_ a big lad and all, aren't you?"

Before James could answer, the front door opened, letting in the crisp autumn air that cooled his porridge even more (_Great! Now it'll go down even slower_! James thought irritably) and shut with a sharp bang. Footsteps drawn from weariness echoed in the front hallway and all the way into the kitchen's arching doorway, revealing a wizard of medium height with hazel eyes that unlike his tired, wiry frame, were still bright with vigor. A set of black hair and determined chin wearing a warm smile greeted his family, who, unfortunately, were wrapped up in their own endeavors so much that they didn't see him come in. Instead of disappointment, however, Tomas Potter merely smiled wider.

"Well, hello, kitchen wall," Mr. Potter said in a mechanical voice, staring at the kitchen's wallpapered wall in front of him. "How are you today? I am greeting you thus because I know that you've had such a long, arduous night that you'd welcome any hint of affection and warmth at this moment."

Breaking into a smile as she put down the newspaper, Mrs. Potter stood her petite frame up and reached out to encircle her arms around her husband's neck, planting a soft kiss on his overnight stubble. "Glad to see you still have some of your sanity, Tomas darling."

Mr. Potter chuckled, kissing the top of his wife's head, her fine black hair wrapped in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. "Well, the walls need their share of affection, too, Estelle."

"Hey, Dad," said James glumly, dipping his spoon into his porridge and making it to slurp back down into the bowl, causing his scene to look even more pathetic than he was already trying to make it appear.

Patting his son on the shoulder, Mr. Potter placed his dragon-hide briefcase on the kitchen counter, picked up a chair, and sat backwards on it beside James. "James, m'boy, why the long face? Is your porridge attacking you again?"

"It doesn't want to be eaten," said James, pasting the most naive look on his face. "That's a sure sign that I shouldn't go to the party this afternoon, you know."

"Of course," his father nodded wisely. "Porridges do have much sagacious knowledge to share. I remember that my team of Aurors and I found a tea set once which, when heated, would sing the national anthem with its steam. Very useful, very useful."

"You're going to the party, James," Estelle Potter said, patting her son on the head as she picked up the breakfast dishes and looked around the kitchen and breakfast room with a distracted air. "And that's final. Now, where did I leave the pot of floo powder? I know I left it right _here_ the last time I went to work…my camera was here…I left the other photographs there…where could it be?"

"Now, I want to see that bowl empty, son," said Mr. Potter, patting James on the shoulder again and standing up.

In seeing his mother search for the bowl of floo powder (which he had actually hidden underneath a loose floorboard in the staircase), James realized his unmistakable defeat and became angrier. His parents never listened to a word he said; wasn't it enough that he was going off to Hogwarts, never seeing them again save for a few months during the year, never seeing his friends again, never being able to finally beat Larry Skrimwit at gobstones and get his two sickles back…

"JAMES POTTER!" Mr. Potter shouted, jumping back from his son and staring at his porridge-filled robes in annoyance.

Estelle Potter spit out the porridge that had dived into her mouth, and all over her robes, with a grimace, sighing as she looked at her kitchen. It was entirely covered in thick, mushy porridge – even Karos's cage was dripping with the stuff, while the owl slept on unknowingly. The only spot in the entire kitchen and breakfast room that was saved from James's porridge was his bowl, sitting innocently in front of James, who was trying to look ashamed while endeavoring to get porridge out of his messy hair.

"Well, that's another way to empty your bowl, I suppose," said Estelle warily, wiping the porridge off her eyes.

-----

James was surprised that his parents still had so much to talk about, after being two hours at the party. He'd think they'd be tired out by now, but their tongues, as well as those of the dozen or so witches and wizards at the party, were snapping away about boring stuff like the Ministry of Magic and goblins who were revolting for their rights as magical creatures. _Who cares about that stuff? Only adult wizards and witches, I guess…that's probably why they're yakking away. They can't talk about this stuff with their kids, since that kind of talk will probably kill them._

He stretched his scratchy robes' collar (part of the robes that his mother had forced him to wear, "To have people see you dressing decently, for once," she snapped as he tried to get it off) with an uncomfortable frown, starting to feel suffocated, especially with the heat of the August sun beating down on him as he attempted to cool his sweating form by walking through the noisy crowd and underneath a scraggly old oak tree on the edge of the park. Cheesy "adult" music blared from an expensive radio's Wizarding Wireless Network, hurting James's ears as he passed it and tried not to step on the long toes of the Bones family's House-Elves, who were bustling importantly around serving glasses of firewhiskey. He eyed the buffet table his parents and a couple of their friends were standing by: there was every type of pasty, tart, and biscuit lying there, alongside an enormous, elegant-looking bowl of magically permanent iced punch. But as he tried to lift himself off the dry grass, James sighed and fell back on the ground, squinting in the sunlight's beams that peeked through the tree's cover of leaves.

_Too hot – not enough oxygen – can't walk –_

"Oi, don't cause any racket, will you? This is the only place that's worked, and I don't want to lose it because you're too fat to get up," barked a boy's voice from somewhere above James.

Scowling, James glared up at whatever was snapping back at him – gnomes from the Bones' family's park, he supposed – and to his surprise met a pair of black, accusing eyes from inside a large, engrained hole inside the trunk of the oak tree.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you, Potter," said the boy, his frown deepening as he looked down at James, shaggy black hair hanging down his face. "Shut your mouth – you're gonna get me exposed, and if my mum kills me, the first bloke I'm going to come back and haunt is _you_." He said the last word with a sour look, as though James was a disgusting taste in his mouth.

"How do you know my name?" James asked with equal contempt as he jumped up to faced this pleasant creature.

The boy seemed shocked that James was talking back to him, as if he had thought he had scared James mute. But, not losing a second, he glared at him further, glanced at the guests and their young children screaming around the park, and jumped down smoothly, shaggy hair flying over his face, reminding James of a dog jumping over a fence with ease.

"I know everybody here," said the mysterious boy, flipping his hair back airily. "The Black family knows everyone…we're part of the purest of pure-blood lines, you know."

"Good for you," James snapped, his patience already wearing thin. "Why don't you stuff that line up your arse and do us all a favor?"

Instead of looking insulted as James hoped he might however, the boy broke into a grin. "Heeey…quite good comeback you got there. Clocked it in less than two seconds. Pretty good – for a little tyke, that is."

"I'm not the one who was horsing around in tree holes," James retorted, lifting his eyebrows significantly at the tree trunk hole behind them.

Suddenly, both of their annoyed glares met, and for some reason they broke out laughing, falling down on the grassy floor with surprised grunts, and then laughing harder. Mrs. Potter, who had been chatting with bubbly Mrs. Bones about her latest fetish with decorating her house with Cornish pixies, looked over at her son and the Black family's boy, raucously laughing on the floor, and smiled, turning back to the chat with an inward sigh.

"Sirius Black," Sirius Black said as their guffaws finally died down, extending a pale hand to James, who took it without a second look.

"James Potter," said James, nodding. "But how'd you know my last name?"

"You look like him from far away," Sirius answered, nodding at Tomas Potter, who was entertaining himself by levitating Mrs. Bones' enormously floppy hat and bringing it back down, while listening to Mr. and Mrs. Pummings talk about their purebred Arabian horses that they were teaching to fly. "I figured I couldn't be wrong by guessing you as a Potter."

James ran a hand through his messy black hair, grinning. "Yeah, I guess you're right…but my dad's hair is brown."

Sirius shrugged, leaning against the oak tree and digging out a Fizzing Whizbee out of his elegant robes' pockets, handing another to James, who took it as a sign of acceptance. "Same difference. So, what are you in for? Parents grounded and made you come to this crummy party?"

"Pretty much," said James with a cringe, remembering his parents' outburst at finding the floo powder pot underneath the staircase. "But this is only the beginning…I have to clean the entire kitchen _without_ magic."

Sirius gaped at him. "What? Isn't that kind of work for House-Elves?"

"Dad doesn't agree with House-Elves," said James, kicking at a rock underneath his shoe. "Says that we don't need them…but they sure would come in handy to clean the kitchen, and anytime I test to see whether dungbombs are really as dirty as they're advertised. Have to get my money's worth, you know."

"Hey! I do that too! Only, I order mine straight from Diagon Alley – can't go there, since my prison keeper, our House-Elf, keep watch over me like a Sphinx. Doesn't like me to go anywhere…or walk around the house…or breathe, for that matter."

"Doesn't fancy you, do you think?" James asked in interest.

"Nah, but that just makes getting back at him a lot more fun," grinned Sirius, chewing loudly on his candy. "Just out of curiosity…why don't you have House-Elves? I thought this was a pure-blood only party."

Shrugging, James snatched half of Sirius's Fizzing Whizbee and popped it into his mouth with his other one. "Dunno – ask my dad. Never really bothered to ask…why's it so important?"

"Because every pure-blood family has House-Elves – they're passed down," Sirius hesitated, arching thick eyebrows. "Unless you're not completely pure-blood…" he stared at James in awe. "I've never met an un-pure pure-blood before!"

Just then a loud outburst broke into the relative peace of the Bones family's party. The boys turned around questionably, expecting to see another brawl between adult wizards who had sipped far too much of their firewhiskey and were trying to fight, instead of sleep, it off. Instead, they saw a towering, black-haired man with Sirius's eyes – yet cold, instead of energetic – glowering at the regal frame of Mr. Bones, the ebony wand in his pale hands pointed straight at poor Mr. Bones' terrified face.

"Don't _ever_ take that tone with me, Edmund Bones," snarled the man, his elegant robes matching the color and cloth of Sirius's, yet while they hung haphazardly on Sirius, they seemed to be made for the wizard's fit frame. "My blood-line will not be made a fool of in front of these guests. If I remember, this is _your_ party, and you are the ones who invited pure-bloods here," he added, glancing in disgust around him.

"I invited the oldest wizarding families to my home, Cadfan," said Mr. Bones, who, though he remained frightened at the tip of Cadfan Black's wand tip aimed at his chin, he maintained his voice as calm as he could. "I did not pick them out for the purity of their blood."

"Oi, there's my brother," whispered Sirius, his black gaze drifting to a little boy, about seven or eight, to their right hidden behind a rose bush.

"Maybe he knows what's up," James whispered back.

"Psst!" Sirius hissed at the younger boy in front of them by only a few paces, who was also staring at the argument with stunned eyes. "What's happened, Regelus? You better spill, or else –"

Regelus, who was shorter but had the same shape of face as Sirius, looked back at Sirius with wide eyes. "Father got mad when Mr. Bones began talking about some pure-blood families going bad…getting into the dark arts…" his small voice trailed off as he met Sirius's masked gaze, and he scurried away behind the buffet table, continuing to stare at the scene.

"This is bad," Sirius muttered, avoiding James's questioning look.

James had vaguely heard of wizards getting into the dark arts before – after all, his father was an Auror. And Grandfather Nolan had lived during the time of Grindelwald, the darkest wizard in history. But now he remembered that his parents were talking quietly after dinner, while James supervised the dishes' self-washing, about several findings of the Ministry of a mysterious increase in the practice of dark magic and in the sale of dark items. Examining the hatred etched into Mr. Black's handsome but pallid face, James wondered if he had anything to do with it.

"My family has never been tainted with the dark arts," snapped Mr. Black, his shoulders very tense as he continued to stare at Mr. Bones with repugnance. "We are loyal to the Ministry of Magic _and_ to our brothers and sisters in magic, unlike some here. Now, do not presume to tell me that you didn't accuse me of being involucrated with such blood traitors as those dark wizards and witches! You were speaking to me, you were eyeing my wand hand, and…there are other ways of finding out thoughts that uncivilized wizards keep hidden."

"If you're speaking of Legilimency, Cadfan, then you better take it back before you find yourself with a lawsuit," Estelle Potter barked, her brown eyes, usually so inviting, cold and disdainful as they glared at Mr. Black.

Mr. Pummings bristled his heavy-set frame, his whiskers dangling off his chubby face. "I am a Ministry notary, Cadfan, Estelle is right."

"You know that it's illegal to practice Legilimency without reasons for defense in a duel," said Mrs. Clearwater, mopping her nervously sweating forehead with a lace handkerchief.

"But of course, being the purest of the pure-bloods, Mr. Black wouldn't break any rules," said Tomas Potter, his chin clenching.

Cadfan Black's gaze snapped back to Mr. Potter, as if he wasn't sure how to answer. But he sneered, his eyes narrowing. "But of course. I wasn't talking about Legilimency. I was talking about insinuations…something you're not very adept at, Edmund," he drawled, lowering his wand and allowing Mr. Bones to breathe again, with Mrs. Bones flying to his side and breaking into sobs.

"How – could – you – do this – here – Cadfan?" Mrs. Bones blurbed, wiping huge tears from her pink face. "In our _house_! You and Winifred are our guests! We invited you into our home!"

"Don't exert yourself, Patrice," said a voice that was so bitterly cold James felt a chill go down his back. A woman with bright green eyes came up beside her husband, who was trying to calm himself down, and slid her slim arm through his. "I wouldn't want your party further spoiled. But, as to not trouble anyone else," Winifred Black went on, her perfectly made-up face delicately meeting everyone else's with a mechanical nod, "We will leave. Thank you for your, ah, invitation, Patrice…Edmund," she added, barely nodding at Mr. Bones.

Cadfan Black nodded perfunctorily as well, not meeting anyone's gazes as though he was too disgusted to. "Andromeda," he called out without looking at anyone, "Look after your cousins." With that, they disapparated with a sharp _SNAP _that crackled the air's tension.

"Gotta go," Sirius muttered, glancing at a tall, black haired girl walking toward them. "Uh, sorry about all this."

"Nothing to be sorry about, you didn't do anything to me," James shrugged. "Wait – are you going to Hogwarts this fall?"

"If my parents let me," Sirius said with a scowl. But then he broke into a smile, patting James on the back. "They wouldn't want me to go with an un-pure pure-blood and all!"

James grinned. "Yeah, I'm highly contagious."


	3. Two: A Black Secret

**Two**: A Black Secret

Sirius gave James a short wave while his cousin, Andromeda, dragged him and his brother by the hands and off the Bones's estate. He broke into a grin as James waved back with the rest of his package of Fizzing Whizbees in his hand. _The bloke stole my other stash…excellent move, didn't even see him do it. He has some potential…_

Avoiding the rest of the guests' looks, which ranged from pitying to downright accusatory, Sirius clenched his jaw and stared at his scruffed shoes, noticing that Regelus did the same, his face very red. _Why does Dad have to cause a commotion everywhere he goes? He isn't helping our situation…_

"Don't look down, boys," Andromeda said, her back-length, fine black hair swaying as she held her head high. The Black family's dark eyes in her face were glittering with pride. "You don't have anything to be ashamed about – you both did absolutely _nothing_ wrong." She pointedly glared at Mr. and Mrs. Pummings, who wore the worst of the accusatory looks, as she said this.

Regelus didn't seem to hear or believe their cousin, for he still remained focused on a particular patch of weeds to the park's far corner as they managed to make it through the determinedly silent crowd and reach the high stone gates. Sirius, however, glanced back at the guests, who were now pretending as if nothing had happened and were attempting to aimlessly chat once more, as if talking about de-gnoming their gardens could bring a sense of security back into the party.

"My family isn't into the dark arts," Sirius blurted out, startling not only the party's guests (specifically Mrs. Bones, who appeared terrified that he had spoken), but his cousin and brother as well.

"What are you doing?" hissed Regelus, flushing even brighter. Andromeda merely looked at Sirius, as though she knew how much Sirius needed to say this, even if it was a lie. Sometimes lies comfort better than the truth, especially to the liars.

"We would never do anything that would hurt wizardkind," Sirius went on, swallowing as he met each wondering gaze of the party guests. Far across the park, he noticed James examining him too, and Sirius wondered if their momentary friendship had been reduced to nothing after his parents' tirade. To his surprise, Sirius felt a pang of regret.

"Anyway…. just thought I'd clear that up…" Nodding in the uncomfortable quiet before him, Sirius turned around and joined his family, letting Andromeda put an arm around him as she held out a rusted silver ashtray that served as their portkey home.

A tug of his stomach, a dizzying spin – and Sirius saw the lush verdure of the Bones' manor park vanish before his eyes, replaced by the cold, dark and sullenly silent foyer of the Black family ancestral home.

It wasn't so much that the room was cold by temperature – it was, after all, mid-August – but the air of the once great manor of the Black blood-line was cold by deadened emotions, numb memories, and sharp attempts to hide both. The portraits of his ancestors, severe and arrogant, glared back at him from the expensive wall-papered walls; real ivory vases full of orchids were placed at either end table at the front door, and a rolling emerald carpet greeted them as they stepped into the front hallway. Sirius had never seen this house as a home, but a place that he had grown accustomed to live in until something better came along, hopefully complete freedom. As he looked around the entrance of his house, he began to again feel the usual suffocation that settled over him whenever he was here.

"Your parents should already be here," said Andromeda, who had instinctively acquired the tone of detachment that she had to adopt whenever she was near her aunt, uncle, or parents; emotions were never particularly encouraged in their family. "I'll leave you to it, then – I promised Mother that'd I'd get back before dinner…she only let me come with you guys so I could meet the rest of the pure-blood families, and she's expecting me home immediately."

"'Bye," said Sirius and Regelus monotonously, nodding.

"Give my regards to Uncle Cadfan and Aunt Winifred," Andromeda added, her voice devoid of any affection. As she looked at Sirius though, she gave him a subtle wink and turned around, shutting the heavy ebony door behind her.

"We should've asked her to give our regards to Uncle Nicodemus and Aunt Gretna, and Bella and Cissy too," said Regelus, his small face furrowing into an anxious frown. "Do you think Mother and Father will get angry?"

"Who cares," Sirius said recklessly, throwing off his shoes into a basket near the door and watching them magically disappear to his room. "It's us who should be mad – Father embarrassed us by his whole tirade, and we get stuck with meeting everyone's angry looks after they conveniently left."

"Well, excuse us for trying to leave without tainting your good name," said his mother's familiar frosty voice behind him. "I assure you we did it with quite good intentions."

"Mother, we completely understand –" Regelus began, paling at the sight of his mother's seething anger, her hands high on her hips as she stared at them with hard green eyes.

"Your Father and I left so as to signify the difference between ourselves and ours sons, who had no part of the…disagreement between Edmund Bones and us. No matter where we go, both of you will be received with high honor – you are Blacks, after all…at least, as far as I know," she added with a disdainful wrinkling of her nose as she glared at Sirius.

"Oh, so you mean you're not my biological parents?" asked Sirius impudently.

When Winifred Black became angry, she never allowed anyone to see her as such - _Probably because it might spoil her "good name",_ Sirius thought – except for the one she became angry with. Without a word, taking Sirius by the arm with her pincer-like fingers, Mrs. Black marched him to his room, leaving a horrified yet relieved Regelus in the front hallway. Up the carpeted stairs they went, past the plates of decapitated House-Elves and more portraits of dead ancestors who wore the same look of abhorrence they always did when they saw Sirius, and to the first door on the left of the upstairs corridor. Mrs. Black pushed her son into his room, snapping the door behind them as she followed him in.

"DON'T YOU DARE TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, SIRIUS ORPHEUS BLACK!" she screamed as soon as Sirius landed on the floor with a thump. "I'VE RAISED YOU AS MY SON, AND YOU WILL RESPECT ME AS SUCH! YOU ARE A BLACK, THROUGH AND THROUGH, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!"

"WELL, I DON'T LIKE IT!" Sirius bellowed back, ignoring the untamed look that had transformed his mother's delicately made-up face. "I WISH I HAD NEVER BEEN BORN A BLACK! ALL YOU AND DAD DO IS MAKE MY LIFE MISERABLE!"

Heaving with seething fury, Winifred stared at her son, her green eyes ablaze – but abruptly, her face morphed into one of cold graciousness and even, faint affection. "Well," she lowered her voice, making it thick as she continued, "Do you really mean that, Sirius? After all we've given you, after all we've expected for you, knowing that you have the potential to carry our name to the highest powerful role in our world…you really believe that we hate you so much?" Bulky tears welled up in her eyes, and she gave a dramatic sigh and dabbed her marble-white face with a perfectly sewn lace handkerchief.

Sirius hesitated…he hated to see his mother cry. He growled inwardly as a flood of guilt rushed over him, and unconsciously, as though his heart had betrayed the fuming thoughts still racing in his mind, he placed his arms awkwardly around his mother's neck.

Mrs. Black patted him on the head, planting a hard kiss on his forehead while continuing to dab at nonexistent tears. "Oh, Sirius, I knew you didn't mean that. You always know when you're in the wrong. Your father and I care for you deeply, and have never wished you ill will in anything." She gave a heaving sob for deeper effect.

"I'm sorry, Mother," said Sirius, lowering his eyes.

"It's all right, I forgive you. Now, wouldn't you like to make Mother happy in repentance for your unseemly outburst?"

Unaccustomed to have his mother continue to hug him for this long, Sirius instinctively answered, "Of course."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Black said, her brisk tone returning as she unhooked her son's arms and straightened her stylish black robes. "I want you to continue your studying of the Black family history."

"Oh, Mother –"

The severe look returned to Winifred Black's face. "Don't you want to make Mother happy, Sirius? Your family history and genealogy are very important to you, aren't they? You are proud to be a Black, aren't you?"

Sirius swallowed, feeling the familiar suffocation of the house envelop him once more. "Yes, of course, Mother."

"Then go and study as you're told. Now."

Coughing as thick coats of dust settled into his face, Sirius turned to the page he had left off the day before with a grimace. The huge, dragon-hide book of 3,000 pages growled as if it knew Sirius would've rather been wrestling with a Hippogriff than studying its lengthy pages of Black family history. _I wonder if it can tell my parents that I'm only on page fifty-six, _Sirius thought dryly.

Complex family trees and genealogies that were traced since before the Founders created the magic world stared back at Sirius's weary face. Everything looked the same to him: the names that had been passed down from generation to generation (Sirius had been named after his paternal grandfather), the families they had married into, and even the places of birth were all similar – the Black family had never been one for change. But the one thing that was ever constant in the whole book (Sirius knew this because he had flipped through it just to see how much more boring it could get) was the reiteration of the word "pure-blood." The Black family was as pure, as refined, as cultivated, as old as the very best of wizarding families, maybe even _the_ best. It was the most loyal, the most devoted, and most trustworthy family of the Ministry of Magic and its environs – or so the grimy Black Family history book told Sirius.

But Sirius could not wholly believe that were true, even though he had always wished it to be. He had always had a feeling that his family had been hiding something from him, something that they didn't want him to know about…yet. For Sirius wasn't stupid: he knew that several of the "trinkets" he had found on the manor while he was playing when he was young weren't "little nothings," as his father had explained before he swiftly confiscated them. And they weren't something that his family didn't wish him to know about either; if his mother hadn't wanted him to see rusty, spiked instruments that looked like they could cut his finger off within a second, candles that oozed green liquid which Sirius was sure was poisoned, and a biting silver snuffbox filled with Wartcap powder which Sirius had debated to use on Regelus before his mother caught him, then she would've properly hidden them away. Even in his eleven year-old mind, Sirius knew his parents were trying to goad his curiosity so that he would want to know what those little nothings were, for some reason.

Apart from those items, the Black manor was as normal as any other wealthy, pureblood mansion. But, like a broken melody, there was something irrevocably wrong about the entire picture, as if Cadfan and Winifred Black were not all that they appeared to be.

_I'm probably just going mad,_ Sirius thought, shaking his head that was encrusted with dust and causing it to fly everywhere. _Reading can do that to you – just like it did to that old man Albus Dumbledore Father keeps muttering about._ He closed the book shut, its thud echoing around the large library. Because no windows were constructed in the room, the only light came from the tall iron candleholders that were splattered all over the room, making the shadows of the numerous books stacked neatly into the built-in ebony bookshelves dance over the jade marble floor.

Glancing at the gothic-style clock over the French doors, Sirius sighed and laid his head on the cool marble-top desk. He figured if he stayed there for a while, his mother would think that he had remained for the entire three hours she had dictated, instead of the hour Sirius had only spent on studying. He didn't know why he would always fall into his mother's manipulation. You'd think that with eleven years of experience with his parents, Sirius would have learned to avoid their calculating spider webs. However, Sirius always held a faint hope that one day, his mother would actually cry for him, that she would actually mean to hug him and to hold him as he had seen other mothers do with their children. In a way, Sirius supposed, he was as much of a liar as his parents since he didn't want to admit the truths he knew about them. And this revelation only caused him to feel worse.

Hurried footsteps suddenly padded down the hallway, and Sirius, noticing that he had left the doors open, hastily opened the book again and made himself appear to be studying. His father's broad shoulders and erect, stiff frame passed the shadow of the doorway. Cadfan Black paused in his steps, turned around, and stuck his head into the library. His face was identical to Sirius's in every way save a four-inch scar cut diagonally across his the back part of his neck, barely visible in the dark corridor. Sirius had always admired his father for that scar – he was sure it was a mark of some great battle or duel. In fact, Sirius admired anything about his father…except his bad temper, as shown in the Bone family's party that morning.

"What are you doing in here, son?" asked Mr. Black in his usual quiet, firm voice.

_He's so different when he's angry,_ Sirius thought, suppressing a shudder as he remembered this morning. "Studying," Sirius croaked, his throat caked with dust. Clearing it, Sirius continued, "Mother told me to…am I in your way, Father?"

Mr. Black hesitated, glancing in the direction of the front door. "Not exactly…I am expecting the Malfoys any minute, and I would rather hold the meeting in here. But you can stay."

_At least someone around here treats me like I'm my age,_ Sirius thought with a gleeful smile as he shut the book again with a relish and stood up to straighten his robes. _Father hardly lets me in on any of his meetings…I wonder what it's about this time?_

"Marcellus and his son Lucius are coming," Mr. Black went on, as if he had known what Sirius was thinking. "We have some very important issues to discuss…issues that are quickly becoming more urgent to operate. All of that studying you've been doing for this summer will finally be seeing its fruits."

Oblivious to his son's puzzled look, Cadfan Black smoothed his gleaming black hair back in a distracted gesture and went to sit down in the rigid, velvet-covered armchair to Sirius's right. His long dark green robes settled over the floor as he crossed his legs and settled into a thoughtful reverie.

"Call Kreacher, Sirius," Mr. Black murmured. "Tell him to bring some wine."

Biting down on his tongue, Sirius forced himself to get up and ring the bell just outside of the library's French doors. Immediately the aged, sourly wrinkled leathered body of a House-Elf appeared before him, its black eyes glittering with disdain as he glowered at Sirius, who glared back at the one being who could make his life just as miserable as his mother could. Personally, Sirius thought that Kreacher was secretly lusting for his mother with all of his praise of her, but he kept that to himself.

"Father wants some wine with four glasses," Sirius spat, making sure that some of his spit went on Kreacher's malevolent face. "And when the Malfoys arrive, show them into the library."

Kreacher merely continued to glare at him, used to such tirades. "Kreacher will obey, yes he will, unlike the disobedient delinquent of an eldest son that tries my mistress so, who dares not to be proud of being part of the most noble and ancient house of Black –"

"Oh, shut your trap," Sirius snapped, slamming the library doors in the House-Elf's face.

"The Malfoy are coming to speak about some recent news in our connected circles, Sirius," Mr. Black went on as if there had been no interruption. His steady gaze followed his son as he sat down in the armchair next to him. "Marcellus is coming to offer us some advice."

"Why do we need advice from the Malfoys?" asked Sirius, arching his eyebrows.

"Because they have several connections into…" Mr. Black licked his lips, rubbing his cleanly shaven chin, "Into what we will talk about today. This will aid you in your attendance to Hogwarts this year, son."

Sirius's eyes lit up. "So I am going to Hogwarts, not Durmstrang?"

Mr. Black sniffed in disdain. "Hogwarts has the superior education by far, despite its authorities, and my sons will only have the best. The…specific lessons that you might have learned at Durmstrang can easily be taught to you at home. And actually, I would prefer for you to learn them at home, considering present events."

"What lessons?" asked Sirius suspiciously.

Before his father could answer, Kreacher opened the double doors, bowed so deeply that his long pointed ears touched the marble floor, and croaked, "Mr. Marcellus Malfoy and his son Lucius to see you, master."

Two pale blond figures trailed inside out of the hallway's darkness, their features outlined by the tongues of flame flickering from the library's numerous candles. To Sirius, father and son looked like clones of each other: Marcellus's icy gray eyes, smooth hair and pale skin were mirrored in the younger image of fourteen year-old Lucius. Even in the guarded way that they moved, the stubborn twist of their chins, and in the cool smiles pasted on their faces were the same, except that Lucius did not have the creases of time and experience that had worked their way into Marcellus's expression.

Sirius had never trusted such cunning masked by smoothness that he only knew too well.

"Marcellus, Lucius," Mr. Black greeted them, standing up with Sirius following him. "Welcome. Please, sit down."

"It is good to see you again, Cadfan, young Sirius," Mr. Malfoy replied, nodding and taking a seat across from the Blacks, indicating with an iron cane set with a silver snake that Lucius should do the same. Lucius coolly raised his eyebrows and nodded at Sirius in his own manner of greeting, while Sirius pasted on a smile.

Kreacher bustled into the library, his ancient hands holding up a silver tray of four full goblets and a very old bottle of the Black's best wine. Everyone took a glass and sipped, settling comfortably into their chairs as old associates who, though neither family held any true friendship for the other, upheld the required esteemed relations between the very oldest of pureblood families.

"Now then," began Mr. Black, "We should get to the point. You know I don't like to dawdle in any of my affairs, Marcellus."

"Then let me start with the most important point, Cadfan. I came to you a few days ago to tell of certain appearance of our old…friends. You admitted an interest, and dare I say, knowledge, of what has been happening. I think you may understand my method of caution for saying this, but…tell me what you know, and I well tell you what you want to find out."

Mr. Black met his gaze silently, and Sirius knew he was debating on the way to say what he wanted to. Without swerving his eyes, he ordered, "Kreacher, leave the tray on the end table and go. Make sure to shut the door well on your way out, and allow no one to disturb us."

"Yes, master," Kreacher croaked, leering at Sirius as he bowed once more and exited the room with his back facing the hallway. The doors shut quietly behind him.

"Marcellus," Cadfan Black began, carefully looking at his wine glass, "I know there is much to find out, but I will also take your own cautious stance and say only what I know will attract your attention. The dark forces are assembling as we speak, headed by a new leader no one knows of. I am not sure how, when, or where, but I am sure of what will be happening…the forces assembling are of creatures and wizards that some say are meant solely for destruction. Although they are weak and scattered now, they may one day become stronger. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Sirius sat frozen to his seat, listening to Marcellus replying to his father's admission as if this were as normal conversation as the weather. Dark forces? Creatures and wizards joined together? _But purebloods never allied with magical creatures, they're beneath us, right? What was so important that this had to happen – and there was actually a leader to all of this? Why didn't I guess that my parents would be associated with something like this?_ he thought, dazed as he stared at his father. _The signs were always there…why didn't I want to see them?_

His racing thoughts were jarred as he heard Marcellus's side of the conversation. "…and Hogwarts is still the safest place to be. That is why Lucius is going to continue his education there," he added, placing an arm heavily on his son's shoulder, who sat straighter and met Sirius's proud expression with a haughty look of his own.

"Unfortunately, Dumbledore is still keeping an eye on us Slytherins, Father," said Lucius, wrinkling his fine nose.

"Figures," Cadfan sneered. "He was always a mudblood lover. He doesn't know when he sees royal blood when it's under his long, poky nose."

Sirius laughed along with the Malfoys, feeling a tug of discomfort. Why was Dumbledore suspicious of the Slytherins if he had no good reason not to? Would he be under the Headmaster's eye too when he entered Hogwarts? _After all, no Black has ever been sorted outside of Slytherin house…_

"Besides, I hear he is a half-blood," Marcellus said, as if this explained everything. "Yes, he will be a problem. But as I am saying, Cadfan, if our pureblood connections assemble, our forces will be invincible. This leader that is rising is said to be extremely powerful. No one knows who he is, however…he's been in hiding for several years, and is just now revealing himself to a select few."

"The few who will be faithful to him, especially in his quest to retain the honor of being a pureblood," Mr. Black went on, sipping his wine musingly. "Our family has been looking for an opportunity like this for a long time…"

"As has ours," Mr. Malfoy continued, giving them a wry smile. "It is high time someone powerful enough to lead us has risen. I will find out more, and I will certainly come and tell you everything I discover."

Mr. Black nodded slowly. "Yes…thank you, Marcellus. Sirius," he added, turning to look at his bemused son for the first time in the hour they had been talking, "I have allowed you to stay here for this conversation because I want you to know what you been born into, the honors that you have received because of your family. You are to go to Hogwarts this fall, and you will tell me everything that might prove useful to our families, do you understand? Prove to me that you are the son I have always known you to be."

Swallowing and not knowing whether to glow or recoil from this praise, Sirius managed to say, "Of course, Father."

Now Hogwarts didn't seem to be the faint twinkle of hope in Sirius's future, holding a possible friendship with James Potter, a boy unlike Sirius had ever met…it possessed a foreboding dread for him instead, only emphasized by the cool, approving smiles from the Malfoys and his own father.


	4. Three: Beginnings

_Gigi94_: Thank you! I love writing James and Sirius, and their meeting also made me laugh, hehe. You're absolutely right, the signs are there, and the war is finally starting to take shape…

_FantasyDreams_: Thank you very much. You summarized James and Sirius perfectly. I'm glad you like them, too!

* * *

**Three**: Beginnings

_Wonder what Sirius is doing now?_ James wondered idly, sitting on top of his trunk and chewing the last of the Fizzing Whizbees that he had snuffed from Sirius's pockets. _Well, he sure isn't enjoying this Whizbee…it's a good one, too – makes your tongue really fizz – ouch, wait, too much fizzing…_

As James was fanning at his mouth, which had abruptly felt like it was on fire, Mrs. Potter stuck her head into the hurricane-ridden place called her son's room. Models of Quidditch brooms were flying all over – one barely missing Estelle Potter's eye as it made its way to the glass box of magically enchanted deer ferociously battling with their antlers – posters of a zooming Quidditch team, the Proud of Portree, were plastered around the walls, while models of dueling knights and fiery dragons ambled on the floor, inventing James's version of King Arthur's last battle (the dragons were winning).

"James, darling –" Mrs. Potter began, before jumping out of the way as one of her garden gnomes floated past her in another glass box, crossing its arms and grumbling.

"He tried stealing my stash of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start Fireworks, Mum," said James in his defense as he saw his mother's surprise. "I think he was trying to blow up the garden again."

"Right…well, thank you…for that," Mrs. Potter replied, half in confusion as she saw the gnome wave its wrinkled fist at her. "Now, where did you get those Fizzing Whizbees?" she added, eyeing the crumpled wrappers lying around James's socked feet.

"Friend gave them to me. So, are we going yet?"

Mrs. Potter cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "Yes, as a matter of fact we are…your dad is just getting his set of gobstones from the basement to give to you."

James's face lit up instantly. "He's giving his set to me? What made him change his mind? He's had those ever since he was my age, as he always reminds me whenever I ask if I could play with them."

"Just shows how much he'll miss you while you're away at school, I suppose," said Estelle, examining her son as he turned his face away while he picked up the wrappers from the floor. "You're coming back, darling, you know that. We're not sending you off forever."

"Yeah, and I'll love Hogwarts, I'll learn how to control my powers, I'll have a lot of friends, blah, blah, blah," James mimicked in an uncanny imitation of his mother's light voice. "Tell me something I don't know."

"No need to take that tone with me, James Potter," Estelle warned. "We can always stuff you in the attic like Edmund Blewett's parents did when he said he didn't want to go to Hogwarts. They couldn't get him to leave it afterwards – Edumund became friends with the goblin accompanying him in there."

James made a face and stood up, digging his hands into his pockets and looking up at his mother with eyes that drove daggers into her mother's heart. "Fine, I'll go. No complaints, promise."

Smiling, his mother encircled her arms around him and kissed the top of his notoriously messy hair. "Thank you. But I must say, I'm touched to see how much you care about your old mum and dad, not wanting to go off to school."

"It's not really that…although, I will miss you guys and everything," James said quickly, noting his mother's hurt gaze, "A lot, really. But - I almost beat Larry Skrimwit at gobstones last Friday, and I know I could really do it if I get another chance!"

A streak of hilarious laughter threatened to spill from Estelle Potter's tightened mouth, but she managed to maintain her face as serious as her son expected it to be. "Well, maybe with your father's gobstone set, you'll be able to when you get back for Christmas Holidays, darling."

But if she had looked an extra second at her son's face, she would've noticed the trace of sadness that stifled James's hazel eyes' usual vigor as he cast his mother a look which, to the shrewd observer, seemed as if he was trying to engrave her smile into his memory.

"Mind you don't get into trouble."

"And we mean that, James."

"We really, _really_ mean that, James Potter."

"Really, really, _really_ –"

"I get it already," James snapped, fussing with his hair with one hand while his other held a small, bulging canvas bag. _Hope my stuff doesn't spill out…I crammed it in pretty tight_.

As if he had been reading his son's mind, Mr. Potter demanded, "What's in that bag, son?"

"Last minute things I forgot to pack," James responded instantly. "You know I always forget things."

"Not really, but I'll let you slide with that one, seeing that this will be a while before we you again," Tomas Potter said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "James, I'm sure you'll do wonderfully at school. You are one unique young wizard, m'boy. Take care of my gobstone set, will you? I beat Eileen Prince in my sixth year with that old set, and it's never lost me a game," he added, a note of pride creeping into his voice.

"Hope it'll get me some go – some experience, then," James grinned, mentally smacking himself. _No need to tell the parents about my money making deal…_

"We'll write to you every day, and we expect responses back," Estelle Potter added, forcing herself not to straighten James's Muggle shirt (which screamed "POWER TO THE PEOPLE!" in such bold, purple letters that several Muggles had been shaking their heads at them before they entered Platform 9 and ¾) and instead digging a few sickles out of her purse. "None of this "Hey, wish you were here" rubbish, all right? Here, some money for you, just in case you need anything, darling."

"Thanks, Mum," James said, trying to smile as his parents bent down to hug him simultaneously. "Thanks, Dad, for the gobstone set…I'll do you proud. See you soon."

"Yes, see you soon darling," Mrs. Potter swallowed, waving as James picked up his trunk and retreated several paces back.

"'Bye –" James nodded, still walking backwards with his trunk into the bustling crowds and almost bumping into a harried boy who had been hastening to the crimson Hogwarts train. "Ooops, sorry."

The boy nodded in distraction and continued to hasten to the train, which was now beginning to bellow curling whisps of smoke as its wheels started to slowly move.

"Good-bye, James – don't forget that one of the gobstones really squirts some nasty stuff if you ever get in a fix!" Mr. Potter added, beaming and putting an arm around his wife.

James flashed them one of his winning smiles that never failed to give him a smile in return. "I won't," he called, turning and running to the train, hitching the rail just in time before the locomotive swept off the platform amidst waving parents and children and into the clear blue sky stretching across the endless horizon.

Remus Lupin slid onto the carpeted, moving floor of the Hogwarts train with a relieved sigh just as it began to speed away from King's Cross Station, only moving aside his lanky legs as a boy – actually, the one he had collided with just before the train had set off – jumped onto the train with his trunk banging after him as it was chugging away. Seemingly unaware of Remus, the boy with the messiest hair Remus had ever seen slung a knapsack over his shoulder, picked up his trunk, and whistled off-key as he walked into the corridor, replete with chattering and laughing students, all fresh from summer holidays.

Staring after the boy wistfully, Remus heaved himself up. _Wish I could be that calm and confident_, he thought, straightening his robes that his grandmother had so meticulously ironed earlier that morning. He smiled despite his overwhelming anxiety as he picked up his small trunk that he had somehow managed to haul with him just as he caught the train. _She never did put aside her Muggle habits, even if she married a wizard...but now, as she would say, it's time to face the music._

Remus walked into the crowd of students, breaking into an open half-smile as he met any of them in the eye while he looked for an empty cabin. Each one was entirely full, but the ones that weren't didn't seem very welcoming, as several students (specifically one group of fourth-year Slytherins with a pale blond boy giving him antagonizing glares) didn't offer their empty seats with open arms. Nonetheless, Remus didn't exhibit the humiliating realization that has crept into the mind of anyone who feels left out and alone: he might be stuck outside of all the cabins and labeled a loser for his entire school career. Instead, he held his head high and continued his meager search at the end of the corridor, his gray eyes nervous.

Finally he reached the very last cabin and peeked inside the slightly open door. _Empty. Well, better to sit alone in here than stand outside with no one to talk to._ Shrugging, he entered the cabin, pulling his trunk behind him, and abruptly stopped, noticing the messy haired boy gazing at him curiously. An assortment of fireworks, dungbombs, Fizzing Whizbee wrappers, stink pellets, and a Grow Your Own Warts kit was lying around him and spilling onto the floor.

"I know you," said the boy, pushing his thin glasses on top of his head and then back onto his nose, which looked as if it had been through the mill with the faint scratch marks upon it. "You're that bloke who bumped into me at the station, right?"

Remus frowned. "It was you who bumped into me," he replied, stepping further into the room and heaving his trunk onto the top shelves. The boy immediately jumped up to help him, and together they succeeded in placing Remus's small, elegant iron trunk next to the smart dragon-hide one of the boy's.

"Thanks."

"No problem. So yeah, it was you who bumped in to me," he declared, as if this was the final word. But he was grinning as he stuck out his hand. "James Potter, at your service."

"Remus Lupin," said Remus, grinning back and feeling as if his nerves finally decided to take a rest from the conga for now. He joined James in the cushioned seats of the cabin, each boy sitting across from each other.

_So…small chat…exactly what I dread…_ But Remus's eyes drifted, like any other normal eleven year-old boy's, to the colorful tools at James Potter's feet. "Planning to take over Hogwarts?" Remus asked in interest, examining a bag of belching powder.

"Just trying to make this year a bit interesting," James shrugged, handing Remus a box of dungbombs. "These actually explode silently, pretty useful. Get one if you like. I told my parents that I wouldn't cause any trouble, but…. wait, I didn't promise anything," James pondered, flashing Remus a smile. "They asked me to, but I told them to keep quiet. I can use these, then," he went on, happily picking up a stink pellet and smelling it, instantly making a face and laughing.

_I guess I should reach out, too…I should make friends…and I want to, but…oh, who cares._ Putting down the box of dungbombs (though he had stashed one, just for fun), Remus took out his prized collection of Chocolate Frog cards from his robes' deep pockets. The total number amounted to well over two hundred, a collection of all the cards that ever mattered to an eleven year-old boy, even the most rare ones. Carefully opening the rusted iron box, Remus handed it to James.

"Whoa…" James's jaw hung wide open as he examined each card, chuckling at some, staring enviously at others. "You've got all of the best ones, mate! What, did your dad give you his old collection?"

"No, collected all of them myself," said Remus, trying to hide his evident pride. "Dad doesn't like chocolate frog cards…but my grandmother bought me almost all of them. She gets a big kick out of chocolate being healthy for you in the magical world."

James cast him a quizzical look as he was holding a card featuring Merlin who was watching a fly pass by overhead. "When is chocolate not good, then?"

"Oh, you must be a pureblood," Remus chuckled. "I'm half. My grandmother's Muggle, you know. In the Muggle world, chocolate is the reason for loads of diets and acne. Big problem, it is."

"Really? Must be annoying. Oh, wait, I've been looking for this one for ages!" James exclaimed, holding up another card, this one figuring a scowling wizard that gave Remus a particularly scathing stare. "This is Hargoth the Brave! 'Hunted down and eliminated packs of werewolves from 1256-1315, cutting down the werewolf population by half. Rewarded with the Order of Merlin, first class.' Where'd you get it, mate?"

Remus's normally relaxed face hardened as he met Hargoth the Brave's glittering eyes. "I forgot I had it, actually," he replied in a cold voice, avoiding James's questioning look. _Figures he's just like everyone else…why should he be any more different than all the gits back home?_ He had been looking forward to Hogwarts ever since the Headmaster had promised Remus he would have a normal education; Remus had dreamt of a life far different than the one he had been chained to for the past three years…but it seemed like his past was shadowing him even here.

"This is a really rare card," James went on, holding it up to the light. "'Course, I don't really have a thing for mass murderers, but it's the knowing that you're keeping an uncommon card that's worth getting one at all, isn't it?"  
Casting James a quick, appraising gaze, Remus folded his arms, watching as James checked the inscription on the back again. "Yeah, I guess so…you can keep it, if you like."

"Really?" James asked in surprise, laughing as Remus grinned and nodded. "Excellent. I'll put this one in with my own Merlin one. Snatched _that_ one from Larry Skrimwit, possibly in the only game he's ever lost," he added, stuffing Hargoth the Brave into his canvas knapsack, not noticing Remus's relief as he did so.

"So, you don't agree with what Hargoth did?" asked Remus, affecting a casual tone.

James debated as he flopped down on his seat, stretching his legs and placing his arms under his head. "My dad's an Auror, and he knows about dark creatures and all that. He's always told me that werewolves are some of the most misunderstood creatures, though he didn't particularly explain why. I haven't met a real werewolf, and I can't say whether I _want_ to meet one, would you?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hand reaching to touch the left side of his neck as if by instinct, where a jagged, long scratch ran diagonally over it, though it was hidden by the collar of his robes. "No, most definitely not."

"I say I can't judge one until I meet one," James finished, staring at the whitewashed ceiling above them. "It's only fair. It's not like they were asked to be bitten, and I hear werewolves are not often, if ever, controlled when there isn't an Auror around."

Not knowing whether to laugh in joy or gape at James in shock, Remus's face paled from mixed emotions instead, and he cleared his throat, as if this would clear his racing thoughts. _I can't believe it. So he's not like everyone else. I just…can't believe it. _Yet, a small, dark voice mocked him. _But if he only knew he was talking to a real werewolf, you know what his reaction would be. He's throw himself out of this racing train before spending one more second with you…_

"No, he won't," Remus muttered to himself, half in doubt, half in faint assurance as he glanced at James and looked out the window, where rolling hills undulated at a tearing speed while the Hogwarts train made its way further to Hogwarts.

"What'd you say?"

"Erm – I said, 'No, you can't just have one of my cards,'" Remus explained as James sat up. Remus dug into his Chocolate Frog Card box again, and drew out one card that made Remus smile widely.

"I think you'll like this one."

James took and examined it, his eyes brightening. "Wow, this is another rare find! Meldorne the Magnanimous…it says that he 'organized a campaign to fight for werewolf rights from 1299 to 1320…it succeeded in providing human rights to werewolves when they possess their human form.' Brilliant! Thanks, Rem."

Arching his eyebrows at his new nickname, Remus nodded and hid a grin as James stowed this card in with his others. _Maybe this can be a normal year for me, after all...maybe._

_This is going to be such a normal, boring year,_ James yawned, following Remus and the rest of the boisterous students out of the train, which had come to its ultimate stop at Hogsmeade station. The clear sky that had greeted him that morning had now darkened into the shadowy violet color that sunrises tend to leave behind them, a mixture of day and night slowly melding into one another. The faint twinkle of stars, the dim light of the crescent moon, and the various lamps scattered around the station were the only sources of light, until a large lantern brightly lit the path in front of them. Only until James bothered to see who was holding up the lantern did he understand the reason for the gasps and murmuring that had erupted amongst the first-years surrounding him, including Remus, who was standing next to him and staring at the figure with wide, curious eyes.

"All right then!" bellowed the towering, pole-like figure in a raspy voice that reminded James of someone who had had a cold for too many years and never got better. "Well, well! First years, gather 'round! I said, first years, come here!" Once the man, whom James still couldn't see very well, observed that the first years had obeyed, he held up the lantern, revealing a face quite contorted and strange if it hadn't been for the lopsided smile on his face. Eyes that seemed to want to pop out stared at the first years with shrewdness, while wrinkled, leathery skin hung off the man's tall, bony frame. A squashed nose resembling that of a pig, a chin clutched in the middle, and an earring in the shape of a small bone hanging on his right ear finished the man's unusual appearance.

"Who are you?" demanded a familiar voice several paces in front of James, who squinted to get a better look, but to no avail, for there were too many heads in front of him to see.

"I'm the one you're going to listen to," barked the man. "Name's Ogg. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, and I have proper identification in case you need it, sonny. Or, if that's not enough for ya, I can just leave ya here while I take your friends to the school!"

Not getting a response however, Ogg nodded and lifted his lantern so that his bulging eyes could examine each worried and excited face. "Follow me, or die!" When this was received with extreme alarm, several screams and much fainting all around, Ogg hastily added, "Literally, of course – there's some nasty critters about after dark!"

"Nice bloke, isn't he?" Remus whispered as they all trailed after Ogg with reluctant steps.

"At least he's interesting," said James, examining the back of Ogg's cloak, which seemed to be sewn in a variety of different colors and material.

"Yeah, so interesting that I don't know if he was kidding about that death threat or not," Remus muttered.

They continued walking into the spreading darkness of the evening and arrived at a side area of the station where, on a small river, bobbed about a dozen boats awaiting them.

"Get in, what are ya waiting for?" Ogg ordered, waving his hand in frustration. "You want me to push ya in? Be a bad joke if any of ya couldn't swim, eh?" he chortled at his own gag, looking immensely pleased with himself as he followed the students and got into his own boat at the head of the league.

Each boat was capable of carrying three, so James and Remus weren't surprised when a black first year boy crawled inside with them, looking as calm as if he was used to taking twilight boat rides to castles. Nodding and smiling at them, the boy leaned back in the boat, quite at his ease.

"My name's Isaac Thomas. You are?"

Both James and Remus introduced themselves, not bothering to avoid their looks of envy as Isaac Thomas continued to look about him as if he had been there before. As a matter of fact, he had.

"My dad's a school governor, so he's taken me to Hogwarts loads of times," Isaac went on while Ogg told them all to beware of water monsters as the boats began to sail. "I only live with my dad, so he had to pretty much drag me everywhere. I've even seen a sorting."

"Is it true that we're going to be quizzed on everything we know before the school even considers accepting us?" James asked in interest. _Maybe I still have a chance of busting out of here! I know practically nothing, after all. Should be put to some use._

"No, they just stick a hat on your head to place you in the correct House," Isaac shrugged, chuckling. "It's pretty simple, really."

_Darn it._

"Where are you hoping to be sorted, then?" asked Remus. He also seemed quite carefree. James had a feeling that Remus didn't lose his head that easily, and he had to admit that he admired him for that…. and especially for his Chocolate Frog Card collection, which he had sworn to beat one day.

"Ravenclaw," Isaac replied immediately. "I'm not a coward, but I really do prefer books than facing things I'm scared of, I have to admit. What about you?"

Remus made a face. "Ravenclaw, I suppose…no offense or anything. My family's all been sorted into that House ever since I can remember. Everyone says your House placement usually goes by your ancestors' placements. I guess I'd like to break to tradition. What about you, James?"

"Don't bloody well care," James said. "Just as long as it's not Slytherin."

"Definitely," Remus and Isaac said at once.

The boys continued to prattle on as every other first year did as well, with Ogg humming an old Scottish ballad off-key, slapping the sides of his boat in tune so hard that he almost tilted it into the water. Gradually, the illumination of the heavens were joined by speckles of light glittering over the gentle ripples of the lake, reflecting the glowing lights shining from a lofty, ancient-looking castle up ahead, its turrets stretching into the night sky like reaching hands.

"Little dwarves, I present you Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Ogg shouted; though he didn't need to, because as awe-filled silence had enveloped the first years, causing even the blasé eyes of Isaac Thomas to twinkle with excitement and hope.


	5. Four: At the Drop of the Hat

_I am SO sorry about the lateness of this chapter, everyone. I apologize dozens of times...if that can make up for it. I hate it when authors post updates every month, so I know how it feels. I hope you're all still reading, however. The updates will be continuous after this one, promise! _

_Emma: Thank you! My goal when first starting on this fic was to portray the characters realistically and not so babyish, since they each have their different backgrounds, you know? _

_RT: Thanks! I appreciate your constructive criticism, that helps me out a lot!_

_Disclaimer: The Sorting Hat's song is taken from HP and the Philosopher's Stone, because I'm in no way as creative as JK! _

* * *

**Four**: At the Drop of the Hat 

Once their boats docked off the small wooden port to the left of the castle, the same fascination that had been ignited by merely gazing upon the majesty which emanated from every towering turret and entrance of Hogwarts castle continued as the first year students, lead by Ogg's dangling frame, walked over the lush verdure of the grounds and came into the grand, brightly lit entrance. It was tastefully decorated with unique and strange magical plants from all over the world (James snapped a leaf of one that looked like its leafage was made of emeralds), some which waved at the students while others instead balled their prickly leaves into menacing fists. Sprawling portraits of famous wizards and benefactors of the school were strewn over the mahogany paneled walls – one witch, who apparently had been a longtime celebrated professor of Transfiguration, was rambling on about her numerous achievements while appraising herself in a small looking glass; a wizard who had "supported the school through helpful patronage" was advising the new students on ways to train mountain trolls how to dance the waltz; and still another witch was lecturing one naïve first year on how to one day become Head Boy. The Entrance Hall's finishing touch was four simple yet elegant white marble statues standing in the four corners of the hall: a proud lion, a shrewd raven, an amiable badger, and a slithering snake.

"Move on there!" Ogg said, beckoning at some first years who were lagging behind and examining the ancient engravings of what appeared to be intricate runes etched into the vast, heavy double doors of the castle.

"Nothing to see here…all right," he went on, pushing his way importantly to the front of the murmuring crowd, "I want all of ya munchkins to stand still, shut your loud mouths, and pay attention – Professor Tonsberry should be on his way here soon, and he has some stuff to tell all of ya, but he won't be able to do it if ya all keep yapping those mouths of yours!"

With the gamekeeper's unusually thick, burly eyebrows arching over his bulging, twinkling eyes, the first years' chatter melted into a perfect, tremulous silence.

"Didn't expect ya all to listen to me," Ogg muttered in slight surprise, as he bumbled out of the way and headed toward a side door of the expansive hallway. "Must be all that porridge Mum is sending me…maybe it's making my voice stronger…" Clearing his leathery throat significantly, the gamekeeper disappeared into the doorway and into the starry evening beyond it.

_What a strange, poky old fellow,_ thought James with a grin. _He reminds me of Granddad._

"Smells good," said Remus with a careful sniff into the air. "That's good news, 'cause I'm starving!"

James frowned, leaning on the marble staircase banister behind him. "I don't smell anything…"

"Erm…yeah, well, I guess I'm used to smelling stuff from far away…I grew up on a farm and all that," Remus explained with a nervous shift that, to his immense relief, escaped James's attention.

"Hogwarts has a grand staff of numerous House-Elves," said Isaac Thomas, who had slipped back into his nonchalant element as he leaned against the white marble stair rail behind him. "They do everything, only no one ever catches them to it."

"I heard," whispered a first year girl with immaculately brushed long blonde hair, "That the entire castle is _filled_ with only the best of everything – tons of marble staircases, exquisite crystal chandeliers, and dragon-hide seat covers!"

Each first year then eagerly offered their own morsel of knowledge about their new school; and not to be outdone by the other, each tidbit thus became more outlandish than the last.

"I heard that there are secret entrances all over the castle, some that even the professors don't know about!"

"At the Halloween feast, ghosts come out of nowhere and scare all the students out of their wits!"

"There's a Vampire for a professor!"

"Dragons guard each outside gate!"

"At the end of each year, they test us on how much we've learned by pushing us into the Forbidden Forest and seeing if we make it out alive!"

"Really?" asked another first year girl, her green eyes bright with interest. "I wonder what's forbidden about the forest? If something is forbidden, there has to be something decidedly juicy in it that the grownups are trying to hide from us."

The boy who had declared the news about the Forbidden Forest looked slightly uneasy. "Um, well…they don't actually push us into the Forbidden Forest…uh…"

"You were lying, then?" asked James, his face filled with disappointment. _Merlin's beard, I thought this kid has some sort of good news for me…_

"I think exaggerating might be the best explanation," Remus chuckled, glancing at the uncomfortable first year, who was shirking from the pointed stares of his classmates.

"Peter always exaggerates," said a short first year boy, his brown eyes narrowing. "It's his way of getting attention."

In response, Peter wafted into the back of the crowd, his pudgy face reddening. The rest of the first years soon forgot this little outburst and drifted into small groups, their chatter barely restraining their anticipation at who this Professor Tonsberry was and whether a Sphinx or a talking Bambooza would decide which house to sort them in.

"That's too bad," mused the inquisitive first year girl with green eyes, pulling one of her red French braids distractedly. "I would've liked to see what the adults would've been hiding. It must've been something awfully interesting, seeing as everything is magical here…"

"Duh," James sniggered. "What else did you expect? We are in a magical world, you know…"

The girl shrugged. "I'm not from here. I'm Muggleborn, as all of your kind - I mean, as all of us wizards call people who don't have a drop of magical ancestry." She cast James a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to finding out I'm a witch. Bit of a shock, you know."

"You're a Muggleborn?" the blonde first year girl asked in great astonishment. "I thought you all were supposed to be hairy and uncouth…but you're pretty." She added the latter part with surprise, yet with friendliness in her girlish eyes. "I'm Alice – Alice Kennicott. It's very nice to meet you."

"Lily Evans," volunteered the French-braided girl, looking a bit puzzled at Alice's mixed compliment. "And thank you…I think."

"I'm James Potter – this is Remus Lupin," James added, slinging an arm around a startled Remus as if they had been best friends their whole lives. Oblivious to a pair of furious black eyes on the pale face of another first year who had been watching him and Remus and who now turned away quickly, James went on.

"So what did your parents say when you found out you were a witch, Lily Evans?" He eyed the Muggleborn with curiosity. He had never met one his age – all the ones he had spoken to had been adults, his parents' friends; nevertheless the curiosity he had was not due to the girl's blood lineage, but because he had never met a _girl_ that was so interested in what busybody adults could be hiding from their eleven year-olds' minds.

Lily held up her hands, laughing – but, if anyone had taken a second look at her face, they might've noticed a faint hurt in her eyes which disappeared as quickly as it came. "They were as shocked as I was, really. But I suppose they weren't _that_ surprised – Mum and Dad told me that I had done some weird things when I was little, and my being a witch explained everything."

Giggling a bubbly laugh, Alice covered her face. "I know what you mean. My mother said that when I was only two, she was about to paint my room yellow, but I somehow made the room pink once she had finished painting it. Pink is my favorite color," she included, giving a fond pat to the rose satin ribbon framing her heart-shaped face.

"I splattered my kitchen with the porridge my mum made me eat," James said proudly, but mentally cringing as he remembered his parents' annoyance.

Remus burst into a reminiscent grin. "When I was five, I turned my parents' ears blue when they refused to let me go to our town's carnival. Their ears fell off after a couple of hours…I guess I was pretty angry."

Evidently the group seemed to think this surpassed all of their unintentional magical exploits, for they promptly applauded a blushing Remus.

"But fortunately my parents' ears grew back," said Remus hastily.

"Enough about blue ears and pink bedrooms, if you please!" boomed a commanding voice from above the Grand Staircase. "Your attention!"

The first years whirled around, some faces filled with guilt at being caught talking, others with curiosity as they gazed upon the lined yet energetic visage of a man of medium-height in dark blue robes who had one wrinkled hand set on the banister, while the other was hanging on his left side in a peculiar way, as if it wasn't in the habit of being used. The man's dark eyes, much like those of an alert, wise owl, was appraising each and every student with a look that made them feel as if they had or at least should have done something naughty. But the humoring smile that seemed to peek from the Professor's dimpled face calmed their nerves.

"Welcome, first years, to Hogwarts, one of the premier wizarding schools this side of the English Channel, and I daresay, of Europe," the gentleman (for that was the only word that crept into James's mind to describe this elegant bloke) continued without the faintest trace of humility. "I am Professor Eugene Tonsberry, your Deputy Headmaster as well as Professor of Divination, which only the smartest of you will succeed in. In a few moments I will be leading you into the Great Hall, and you will be sorted into your respective Houses by…"

At this point James, who had what he called "selective hearing," stopped listening and instead turned to Remus. "This is it, eh? We're about to enter a seven-year imprisonment called 'school.' Good-bye, youthful innocence! Good-bye, opportunities to having fun without getting detention! Good-bye, blissful days of doing nothing and –" he paused, running out of descriptions.

"Eating ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, yet now being forced to swallow healthy rubbish like carrots and lettuce?" Remus suggested.

"Right!" James whispered, punching a chagrined fist into his palm as Professor Tonsberry prattled on about rules of etiquette. "Although I never did get to eat ice cream all day."

"Me neither," Remus sighed, "But it was a thought. I love ice cream."

James nodded in sympathetic understanding, but the boys immediately became quiet as Professor Tonsberry cleared his throat, stood straighter, and glowered upon them all demandingly. He then bustled them into a long line in pairs, and James noticed that Lily Evans and Alice Kennicott, who has been whispering to each other the entire time Professor Tonsberry had lectured, settled into place behind Remus and James. Once he saw that the first years had made a perfectly straight line, the professor turned around to lead them into the Great Hall.

_Here we go,_ James thought, with a thrilling bolt of anticipation running through him as the tall oak double doors began to open to them of their own accord. _I wonder what's behind these doors?_

* * *

_Wow! The ceiling's mural seems so real…its clouds are actually moving…the stars are so bright…oooh, I think that was a fairy twittering over there! But it passed by really quickly – it's a lot fatter than I would've thought a fairy to be…golden plates and goblets! Candles standing in mid-air as daintily as you please…_ Lily Evans' bright gaze flew to each new object with dizzying amazement, her mind racing with enthusiasm and, though she wouldn't admit it even to herself, a hefty pound of anxiety. _But it's not like I don't fit in here,_ Lily thought, glancing at Alice, who was also looking around the Great Hall in wonder and casting a few looks around the room while patting her satin ribbon. _I'm a witch, and they're witches – and wizards – and there isn't much of a difference between us. Well, except that they seem to know everything about the magical world, while I only know what I've seen since I stepped foot onto Platform 9 and ¾. And everyone seems to know all about their world, because they're a part of it…but I suppose it's my world now, too… yet I grew up in the Muggle world…I wonder which world I belong to?_ She tried not to think of what her stepmother would say to that in response. 

With an uneasy step, Lily attempted to blend in with the rest of her fellow classmates even as she avoided the half-interested stares of the older students, particularly those of the table to her left, who all proudly bore crisp, dark green ties and patches of a slithering snake on their black robes. They were whispering to each other with sneers and smirks at the first years. One impudent stare from the pale, arrogant gray eyes of a pale blond boy above all discomfited Lily, who wasn't sure how to react under the boy's scrutinizing look.

But she shook this awkward feeling off as the first years finally arrived at the front of the Great Hall, facing an extensive table perpendicular to their long line, where all the Hogwarts teachers sat with various smiles, frowns, or boredom. One professor stood out in Lily's eyes, mainly because anyone of his kind who would even dare walk through Lily's uptight neighborhood would be chased out immediately: long silver hair adorned the professor's wizened face like a mantle, his whiskers and beard falling over his lanky, tall frame. Eyes behind half-moon shaped spectacles, which glittered a blue brighter than Lily had ever seen, gazed at the large, lively room with appreciation, as though the old professor preferred and was thus used to children's noise and banter more than a stiffly silent group of children. His place was in the middle of the table, so that the line of first years was directly facing him as Professor Tonsberry emerged with a battered, dusty brown pointed hat in his right hand, which appeared to be the only one he was able to use, as his other was dangling on his other side uselessly. He set the hat on the stool, and to Lily's disbelief, the old hat opened the middle portion of its ragged cloth and began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see.  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
But I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Cheers and applause rang throughout the Great Hall at the end of the hat's song, while the hat made a courteous bow to each table, as well as that of the teachers', and promptly sat still on the stool once more.

"Whew, it was only a hat!" said the short first year boy behind Lily.

"I thought it was going to be a Sphinx," murmured a first year girl beside the boy in a tone of great relief.

But to Lily, a talking hat was not much better. She was still staring at it with her mouth wide open. The bundle of nerves that had been pulling her heart's strings now seemed to tug with horrifying power. _What am I?_ Lily fretted, racking her mind to decide on her character within the space of the few minutes Professor Tonsberry took to disappear and return with a lengthy piece of parchment. _Brave? Hard-working? Intelligent? Cunning? Oh, why couldn't Mum and Dad have told me what kind of child I was instead of giving me the emergency numbers of all their friends in Scotland?_

"Come and sit on this stool as I call you by your name," said Professor Tonsberry in his authoritative tone, "and please, remain quiet as I do so." At this he glared at James and Remus, who exchanged quick glances and muffled their sniggers.

_It's all right…it's all right…maybe if I make a mad dash to the door no one will see me? Well, that definitely tells me I'm not at all brave…_ Lily attempted to calm herself and instead looked at the back of James and Remus's heads as Professor Tonsberry began to read out the first years' names from the long, rolling piece of parchment. . _I can't believe anyone is able to get into trouble even before the year starts…those two must be a handful. They'll probably become the troublemakers, with no regard to anyone…and Alice will most likely become the coquette, since she seems a bit superficial. Too bad, because she might've been a good friend._ She hid her emerging smile as she looked at Alice, who was nervously fixing her ribbon and patting down her shining golden hair.

"Black, Sirius!" Professor Tonsberry called.

Swallowing, Lily bit her lips and gawked at the pointed hat the professor had just settled over a pale, black-haired first year with proud dark eyes and an impish chin. The hat stood quite still on the boy, and Lily had yet to figure out what the purpose of the hat was, but to Lily's wild imagination –which was more fervent than ever in her nervousness – it appeared like one of those signs of fate that had always been placed in the journeys of the heroines played out in the fairytales Lily had grown up with. _I wonder what it holds for me?_

_Ah, talent I sense…oh yes, much…but no motivation to run it…hm, I see a tendency to get your own way, and stubbornness to match it…_ said the small, thoughtful voice of the Sorting Hat into Sirius Black's ear.

Sirius knew that he would be sorted into Slytherin, of course; all the Blacks were, even Andromeda, though she had not a hint of the malice or manipulation that was genetic to their entire family. And it would be all right to be in Slytherin, with Andromeda in the same house as Sirius was, and he would know everyone else…. but with a tug of his usual obstinacy, he almost wished he could see his mother's face if he was sorted into a house other than Slytherin.

_Just sort me and get it over with, you patchy, smelly old hat,_ thought Sirius gloomily.

_Ah, and a great disdain for authority. Well, well…with your other qualities that I see, I believe that the right house for you will be…_

"GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the Sorting Hat, amidst gasps of bafflement and disgust (specifically from the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables), not in the least heightening to the same shock that registered over Sirius's colorless face.

"Gryffindor?" Sirius muttered to himself in complete bewilderment, still sitting on the stool as Professor Tonsberry took the hat off his head. "Gryffindor? Me? _Me_?"

"Cheers, Black!" James Potter grinned as Sirius, who had to be escorted by a grim Professor Tonsberry off the stool and into the crowd of students, walked past him with trembling knees.

Sirius forgot that he was furious with James for abandoning him, and merely nodded, still confounded as Professor Tonsberry helped him sit at the Gryffindor table. Unmindful of the questioning looks and antagonizing glares of the Gryffindors, Sirius stared at his hands. _I'm in Gryffindor? How can it be? Maybe Mother and Father really aren't my parents…_ His shaken gaze drifted to the Slytherin table, where their sullen faces were no better than that of the Gryffindors'. Lucius Malfoy was especially casting Sirius an expression of complete disdain, and he immediately turned his back on him as soon as he spotted Sirius meeting his eyes. Narcissa Black, Sirius's cousin and Andromeda's younger sister by a year, bore a face of utter repugnance and shame over her delicate features, and she tossed her long blonde hair as she turned her back on her cousin as well. However, sitting beside her was Andromeda, who was wearing a look of bemusement identical to that of Sirius, and her twinkling black eyes seemed to ask him, _What will our family say?_

"Black, Bellatrix!"

_If anyone deserves to be in Slytherin it's Bella,_ Sirius thought in distraction, looking at his cousin with a mixture of admiration and displeasure. They had always played together as children, since they were of the same age, but Bellatrix had an even more stubborn and spiteful nature than Sirius had, and always seemed to get her way without a regard for anyone else. At times, it was a quality that Sirius approved of in their competitive games and jokes, but sometimes Bella intimidated him with her obsession for winning. _Then again, if I was sorted into Gryffindor, maybe she…_

"SLTYHERIN!" shouted the Sorting Hat as soon as it was dropped onto Bellatrix's short set of jet black hair.

_Figures_.

* * *

The petite, handsome girl stood up with the stately air instinctive to the Black family and strode to the applauding Slytherin table with a self-satisfied smile glowing from her triumphant gray eyes to the clenching of her chin, the same look that she wore whenever she won a difficult game. Narcissa and Andromeda hugged Bellatrix as soon as she sat next to them, and Sirius felt a pang of regret rush through him as he turned to meet the disapproval of the Gryffindors at his table. _At least Bella will know everyone in her house and not be afraid they won't like her in return, since she's a Black…but over here I'm already hated because I'm part of the Black family._

"Dyrdra, Riona!"

Alice Kennicott watched as a tall girl with a head of shining black hair pulled back in a braid so long that it nearly touched the waxed wooden floors of the Great Hall walk up to the stool and sit down, her complexion a ghastly pale color, causing her dark eyes to look large enough to take up her small face.

_The poor girl looks like she'll faint on the spot,_ Alice thought in understanding, feeling the same way herself. She wondered what house this girl Riona would be sorted into; it was a game that Alice had begun in order to distract her mind from her own mounting apprehension. _Hm, maybe she'll be in Ravenclaw…or maybe not, since that Black family's boy actually got sorted into Gryffindor. He looks as shocked as everyone else is._ Glancing at the boy called Sirius Black, whom Alice faintly remembered to have met in one of her mother's illustrious galas, she sighed. _He's dreadfully handsome…I wonder what his family will say of his sorting?_ How she wished she could be sitting there – anywhere, really – just to know that this was all over, that she had been sorted into whatever house the stupid talking hat decided to place her in…Alice detested waiting.

It appeared that her new friend, Lily Evans, did as well, for she had been festering with her hands almost constantly since the Sorting Hat's song ended. A sheen of sweat had now appeared over Lily's brow, and Alice wondered if she was in a state of a panic attack. Hastily she offered Lily an embroidered handkerchief with the her initials, _A.M.K._ in twirling script of pink thread. In immense gratitude, Lily took it and mopped her forehead, smiling her thanks and returning it to her.

_I'm sure we'll be the best of friends_, Alice thought in delight as she pocketed the handkerchief daintily into her robes. As all properly brought-up girls know, Alice reminded herself, whenever two girls shared a handkerchief, they turn out to be life-long friends…or at least, that's what her decorous grandmother had told her. _And Grandmama is always right._

"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat declared, after musing a long time over the pale, tall girl. A mask of impassiveness swiped over Riona's face, and no trace of happiness or disappointment could be seen as she walked over to the Slytherins, who looked at her in interest and instantly began whispering amongst themselves while she sat down on the corner-most seat.

_I suppose I'm not very good at this game, am I?_ thought Alice as she shook her head.

"Evans, Lily!" came the next name Professor Tonsberry called out.

Alice gave Lily's hand a bracing squeeze as her new friend slowly stepped towards the stool and took her seat with shaking hands.

"Bet you five knuts that she'll fall over before she gets sorted," James Potter hissed to his friend Remus Lupin in front of Alice.

Taking a second to think it over, Remus nodded. "You're on – but only if she _actually_ falls over –"

"Be quiet!" Alice shushed. "Lily's nervous enough without you two gambling on her!"

Unfortunately, James lost his bet, for the magical wizard's hat didn't take as much time with Lily as it did with Riona, and didn't leave Lily enough time to faint. It promptly proclaimed, "GRYFFINDOR!" only a minute after it was set on Lily's radiant red head. Joyfully Lily handed the hat to Professor Tonsberry, returned Alice's beaming smile, and walked to the welcoming Gryffindors.

_Oh, now I hope that I get sorted into Gryffindor…at least I'll know Lily!_ Alice chewed on the ends of her blonde hair frightfully, forgetting her mother's warning of not to continue that bad habit for fear of ruining her hair. _Am I brave or noble enough to be in Gryffindor?_ Alice asked herself, examining her hands as if they would point out the answer to her.

"Ercentire, Carlton!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Fullman, Katherine!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

_Four letters to go, four letters to go!_

"Harkleby, Joseph!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

_Great, they skipped a letter…_

"Illmore, Rotunda!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

_One more!_

"Kennicott, Alice!"

Alice jumped so high that she bumped into James in front of her, who let out a gasp of surprise. _But they still had one more letter!_ she thought wildly, pulling out the tuft of hair that had accumulated inside her mouth. Nevertheless, she gulped and made her way to the stool amidst the stares of the entire room. Normally she would gather in the limelight since she was so used to being in front of a room, but Alice cowered from the blinding lights of the pale moon magically reflected on ceiling and the lit candles floating in mid-air all over the Great Hall. For the first time she noticed several vaporous ghosts in the back of the room, who were waving at her (save for one foul-looking one with nasty eyes and silver stains on his frayed coat which Alice was sure had once been blood) and appeared to be cheering her on.

"Oh, dear," Alice murmured as Professor Tonsberry set the hat on her head without much ado.

_Ah, I see…I see…a great noble heart…talent, but a propensity to be a bit distracted and involved with oneself…._ considered the quiet voice of the Sorting Hat in Alice's ear.

_I'm not vain,_ Alice protested in her mind, which the hat completely ignored.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat declared at once, much to the wonder of Alice, who had been sure she would be sorted into Hufflepuff, as the rest of her pureblood family had been.

"I guess I'm really not that good at this game," Alice said happily to the confused faces of James and Remus as she slipped off the stool and pranced off to the Gryffindor table.

* * *

Remus plopped down on his massive crimson bedspread, his arms and legs spread out, with the biggest grin on his face. He had done it – he was finally at Hogwarts, away from everything and everyone that reminded him of what he truly was. But here, no one knew – and Remus wanted to keep it that way. He intended of leading a normal life no matter what the cost, and entering a prestigious school, making a friend, and even being sorted into Gryffindor was only the beginning. _I will make this work!_

"Pretty comfy, eh?" James called from his own bed next to Remus's, kicking his feet in the air and tossing his shoes at their dormitory's door. "I could definitely get used to this. I hear we don't even have to clean up after ourselves, or even make our beds!"

"This is the life, all right," said Remus with a happy sigh, patting his overstuffed stomach. "Oh, and remember – you owe me five knuts."

At that moment the door burst open, and the boy whom Remus had noticed had received quite a lot of attention in his sorting came in, wearing a sour look on his aristocratic face.

"This the first-year dormitory?" asked the boy, examining the room with a critical eye.

"Sirius Black!" James declared, grinning as he jumped off his bed and ushered Sirius into the room as if it was entirely at James's disposal. "Welcome, mate, welcome. Glad you've joined our little group –"

Sirius shrugged off James's hand with indifference. "I just wanted to be sure this was the right room…I'm going to meet some of my _friends_ now…" he said this with a contemptuous glance at James, who stepped back as if he had been shoved away.

"You've got something to say to me, say it to my face," James snapped, the hurt that Remus had barely caught in his hazel eyes instantly replaced with barely controlled anger.

"I've got nothing to say to an un-pure pureblood," Sirius sneered.

"Wait a second there – aren't _you_ un-pure too, now that you're stuck with us Gryffindors?" James demanded, his eyebrows furrowing.

Remus sat up as he sensed the tension in the air thicken, and his eyes shifted between the two boys with uneasy dread whilst Sirius's countenance screwed up into a bitter scowl.

"I'm still a Black, _toujours pur_," Sirius barked. "Don't you forget that, Potter! Just because I'm a bloody Gryffindor now doesn't mean I have to be with the likes of you. In fact, I'm going right now to the Headmaster and demand that I be moved into Slytherin House! I've had enough of you and your prissy Gryffindors making me feel like the scum of the earth!"

"Who's making fun of you?" asked Remus quietly.

Sirius whipped his head to Remus, apparently not aware of his presence before. "Everyone," he replied, avoiding Remus's look. "I'm supposed to be in Slytherin, like the rest of my family…this isn't supposed to happen. My parents will be furious and ashamed, and with good reason," he added, with a livid stare at James and Remus. "All of you Gryffindors are as coarse as they told me you'd be!"

"You're supposed to be in Gryffindor," James retorted. "The Sorting Hat said you had to be in here, so tough deal, Prince Sirius. You're as coarse as the rest of us paupers."

Remus gave the livid Sirius a small smile, trying not to allow the anger that was rising within him at Black's conceit. "James is right… not about you being a prince, but…the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor, so you must have the qualities a Gryffindor has, not a Slytherin –"

"Who the bloody well cares?" Sirius sniped, kicking the bedpost of James's bed.

His face growing red with irritation, Remus began slowly, making an effort to calm himself, "The Sorting Hat did. And I really don't think Professor Dumbledore can have anything to do with putting you in Slytherin, since he didn't bother to sort us the first time. Besides, what makes you so important that he'd give you special treatment?"

The door opened a second time before Sirius could think of a comeback, and a small boy with watery blue eyes timidly peeked his head through the doorway, the same boy who had "exaggerated" in the school's Entrance Hall before the Sorting.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," said Peter, fixing his new Gryffindor patch on his robes as he walked in.

"No, absolutely nothing – especially since you probably heard our shouts from outside the door," Sirius snapped, turning his back on Peter. For one who was the subject of the argument, Sirius didn't seem to want to end it this suddenly.

Peter straightened his Gryffindor tie with nervous hands as his eyes shifted from Sirius's fury, to James's disgust, to Remus's annoyance. "Erm, sorry…I'll leave you to it, then…" He quickly made his escape and scurried out the door.

"And what do you mean _me_ making you feel like the scum of the earth?" James challenged, as if there had been no interruption. "I thought you and I were friends!"

Sirius gave Remus a dirty look, whereas the other boy frowned in confusion.

James's eyes lit up in realization, and he burst out laughing. "Are you jealous? Are you jealous because Remus and I are mates?" He fell onto his bed, his hilarity going into the extreme, while Sirius looked on, his scowl deepening. Remus appeared to be trying to hold back his own laughter while attempting to remain serious for Sirius's behalf.

"Is that all?" James snorted, wiping the tears out of his amused eyes. "Sirius, you're still my friend! We'll make a pact that ickle girls make…what's that pact called, Rem? It's a magical spell…"

"I think it's the amistadus charm," sniggered Remus, now unable to restrain his laughter. "You have to get some pink feathers…and daffodils…and rays of sunshine…"

Both boys broke into merciless laughter again, the room echoing with their howls. Sirius growled, clenching his jaw and unclenching it with the rapidity of a dog.

"All right already!" Sirius bellowed, throwing up his arms. "I was jealous, okay? Jealous! I thought James and I would be friends when I got to Hogwarts, and then I saw you two being all matey on the Hogwarts train and on the way to the school - I thought James had forgotten about me…satisfied?"

James stood up from the floor to where he had fallen, placing a reassuring hand on Sirius's shoulder, his face red with mirth. "Yes, dear Sirius, yes…but don't worry my friend, just to be safe, we'll get some pink, fluffy feathers and run through a field catching rays of sunshine…after all, our friendship is worth it, right, ickle Sirius?" he crowed, pinching Sirius's brooding face and chortling.

"And I'll help with the daffodils," Remus snickered. "I think my little sister has some stashed away with her dolls…" he and James exchanged another comical look and tumbled onto their beds once more, clutching their stomachs in laughter.

"It's not funny!" Sirius barked, trying to hold back a smile from the contagious laughter of his friends and finally giving up. As revenge, he snatched up some pillows and pelted them at the two other boys. This soon instigated an all-out pillow fight, and Peter Pettigrew, who had been waiting outside in puzzlement, wondered if there was a war going on inside the room from the yells of triumph and cries of "GOTCHA!" resonating even outside the first-year dormitory.


	6. Five: Fluffy Pink Feathers

_Gigi94: Thank you. I'm very glad you liked it! I LOVE writing Lily, and I'm relieved that you don't think her bad qualities outweigh her good ones. I don't like it when she's portrayed as the little good girl, because after all – she's Harry mum!_

_FantasyDreams: HAHA – Remus, rebellious? You got that right – he will be a Marauder, so he has to have his background. Alice is the sweetest thing, and I love writing her, too. Here is your update!_

* * *

**Five**: Fluffy Pink Feathers and Rays of Sunshine

_I never thought school could actually be as interesting as this_, thought Lily Evans as she marveled at the curving feather which Professor Flitwick had just levitated for their Charms class. _He only points his wand at it, mutters that spell, and it flies!_

Lily examined her own medium-sized willow wand from her school robes. That was another thing about being a witch, but one that she felt comfortable with: wearing robes. They reminded her of the princesses and pirates in the tales she had read when she was a little girl, so she was actually quite happy wearing them, especially since they tended to billow as she walked. And having a wand - well, that was directly out of fairytales. _Except I'm not living a fairytale..._

She knew that her wand held a hair from a female unicorn's mane, which for some reason was extremely powerful for Charms, as Mr. Ollivander had told her with his strange, expressive gaze. But she didn't know what that actually meant at the time, and she now wondered if it would let her become better at Charms than at anything else. _It's worth a try._.

"Now, students," Professor Flitwitck said in his high-pitched voice, his arms trembling in the anticipation he always had when he saw his students achieve their first charm, "Let me see you attempt this spell! Remember that the wand movement and enunciation of the levitation charm is highly important!"

Taking a deep, excited breath, Lily picked up her wand and pointed it at the feather in front of her, flicking her wrist in imitation of the movement the professor had made. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Nothing happened. The innocent feather stared back at her, its plumes swaying softly from Lily's sigh. With her other lessons, Lily cared enough so as to receive the good grades she wanted, but with Charms, as with all things she was interested in, she put her heart and soul into it, and was upset when she didn't receive her expected success. Though she'd never admit it, Lily rather enjoyed figuring out the puzzle of the correct movement and words for a charm, and then waiting to see if she'd get it right. It reminded her of home, of the comfortable Sunday evenings when she would pore over puzzles and riddles with her father…_before everything else that happened afterwards, that is_. She forced herself not to remember, and returned to her practice.

The classroom's deep mahogany walls and expansive windows looked over the northern lush grounds of the castle. Yet none of the day's cheeriness was inside the room; instead, it echoed with cries of the charm, groans of failure, and loud whacks of wands desperately tapping the feathers on desks. Professor Flitwick's beam slowly melted into one of those encouraging smiles teachers give their students when they're trying to believe that their pupils had been listening.

"Never mind everyone, this was, after all, your first try!" said Professor Flitwick bracingly over the din of levitating charms. "Practice makes perfect!"

Alice Kennicott, who was sitting next to Lily, poked her pine wand at her own feather with accusing eyes. "Maybe it's been tampered with."

"Probably," Lily agreed, attempting to cause her feather to levitate again. "Or maybe it doesn't like us. In a magical world, I wouldn't be surprised if feathers had feelings."

Bursting into the lively laugh that never failed to cause anyone around her to smile, Alice shook her head. "Don't worry, feathers don't have feelings here. Neither do tables, chairs, some quills, and a few tapestries. Beware of books though."

A heavy stomp on the desk behind them made both girls jump. "_That's_ what I think too! Books are dangerous."

"Only because you don't like to read," said James Potter, glowering at his stagnant feather in front of him.

Lily and Alice turned around irritably, for neither of them liked eavesdroppers. Their eyes met the scowl of an aristocratic-looking boy behind them, who was sitting between James and Remus Lupin. Lily wracked her mind to remember his name. _Oh yes, Sirius Black…the bloke who's treated like an outcast by the Gryffindors…_ As she examined his defiantly sour look at Alice and her, she wasn't sure if she should pity him or agree with the rest of the Gryffindors.

"Who told you I didn't like to read?" Sirius demanded James.

"You did," said Remus distractedly, re-reading the chapter on levitation in their book, _Magical Theory_. "The first day we met, you declared, 'books are for squares.'Maybe you can't get your feather to levitate because the book doesn't want you to learn the spell, since you always say how much you hate books..."

"Stop growling, Sirius," James ordered as Sirius's scowl deepened, setting down his wand with a thud. "It's been a week since the Sorting, so you might as well give up, mate."

"Give up on what?" Lily asked.

"On getting your nose out of other people's business," Sirius snapped.

Lily's eyes flashed. "Look who's talking – you started this conversation by nosing into _our_ conversation and griping about bloody books."

"Who have feelings," added Remus, frowning as he followed the instructions for the wand movements again. Lily had a feeling that Remus was used to such bantering between his new friends, and that he was listening with a keen ear all the while he was researching the correct way to practice the charm.

"Books don't have feelings," Sirius retorted, just as Professor Flitwick dove down from his desk (from which he had been standing upon to give his short stature advantage of looking over the room) and scrambled to pull out several feathers that had flown into one student's nostrils.

"Oh, yes they do," said Alice in her serious tone, which sounded more like she was reciting something. "Some books can't stand their owners. Whenever we're in the process of collecting books for our annual donation to the Magical Children with Needs association, Mama finds a book that ignites itself whenever she's in the library. It always sets fire to the entire third floor and nearly burns poor Mama to death. So far, it's happened five times."

Lily stared at her in horror, immediately pushing her own book away. Magical books being dangerous? Just wait until she told her dad – but then she remembered what had happened the night she left, and her spirits dampened at the thought of even speaking with her family…

"Don't worry," said James, grinning at Lily, mistaking her palenessfrom a fear of books. "Those books Alice is talking about are only ones that are really, really old and have been passed down generations. New laws state that books can't be enchanted to have feelings, and the Ministry is doing a pretty good job at keeping books in line."

"Well, that's good…I think…" Lily murmured, wondering whether it was any more comforting to believe that books needed laws to be kept in order.

"Reading is dangerous," Sirius maintained, eyeing Remus's book darkly. Lily was beginning to get annoyed with that look. And, although she wasn't sure, Lily could swear that Remus was snapping the book's cover at Sirius's hand whileSirius wasn't looking.

"Yeah, I think so too," Alice nodded, a slight flush settling into her soft complexion as she glanced at Sirius from below her fluttering eyelashes. "I mean, especially with what happened to Mama."

Biting down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling, Lily turned around and opened her book with tentative fingers, flipping to the third chapter on how to levitate feathers while glancing occasionally at Alice, who was still attempting to catch Sirius's eye.

* * *

"What's next?" Alice asked Lily, looking over Lily's shoulder as Lily examined their class schedule once Charms ended. She still hadn't gotten the hang of their schedule yet (Memorizing wasn't one of Alice's fortes). Professor Flitwick had dismissed them (for no one but a chubby first year girl succeeded in merely lifting her feather by an inch, only to have it fall back on her desk again – "She cheated, I saw her," Alice had whispered to Lily), feathers stuck to his untidy white hair, with the caution to not practice their homework while they were eating, in case they inhaled their feathers.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Lily replied. "I'd like the class if we had more hands-on work, wouldn't you? Professor Warpupple thinks we're too young for any experience," At this she rolled her eyes. "But it'd be exciting to meet a real, live vampire for instance."

Alice straightened the satin bow she had placed in her hair this morning, this one bright pink. It severely clashed with the crimson and gold of her Gryffindor colors, but she had put it on in direct defiance of the color codes of fashion, especially those of her mother's. _She's not here to criticize me anymore, and I'm going to take full advantage of that_. For the first time in her life, Alice didn't have to keep looking over her shoulder or involuntarily cringe whenever she thought of doing something her mother wouldn't approve of. _And it feels delightful!_

"Not unless the vampire is particularly thirsty," Alice continued, descending back to earth to answer Lily's comment. "Besides, getting bookwork isn't that bad…it's a lot easier than dueling with vampires. And I don't like the class that much either; Herbology is my favorite. I love plants, don't you?"

"Not really, since I've had to endure all the flower jokes ever since I was born," laughed Lily, throwing her head back slightly and basking in the warm rays of the bright sunlit afternoon that were peeking in from the hallway's windowsills, tempting them with the joys of being outside on such a beautiful day.

"But Professor Sprout makes the class really interesting," Lily added quickly, sensing Alice's hurt once she looked back at her.

Alice smiled in reassurance. For some reason, without Alice saying anything, Lily could tell what she was feeling with rare intuition. This was one of things Alice didn't particularly like but admired about her, since Alice had been accustomed – and enjoyed – to spill out her personal feelings in minute detail. _But maybe she knows what I'm feeling because our bond of friendship is growing stronger,_ Alice thought with a thrill of excitement.

Cries of glee and indignation from behind them abruptly burst the busy noise of students making their way to classes. Alice and Lily darted out of the way just as James shot between them, running down the corridor with a silver pendant of an odd shape in his hands.

"GIVE IT BACK, POTTER!" came Sirius's bellow, and the boy soon jetted after James, who had sprinted down the staircase and out into the courtyard, laughing his head off.

"You can't avoid the subject, James!" Remus shouted, running after the two while clutching his knapsack. "You still owe me five knuts!"

Lily giggled, shaking her head. "Gambling already, are they? Why am I not surprised?"

Alice chuckled, remembering the Sorting. "If you only knew what they had been  
gambling about…" Her gaze drifted into a dreamy one as she and Lily, as well as half of the students in the hallway, watched Sirius and Remus run after James's racing form across the grounds, the three boys yelling at the top of their lungs.

"What are you talking about?" Lily frowned, stepping down the Grand Staircase.

"_He_ wouldn't gamble on you, I'm sure," said Alice with a faraway look in her glowing blue eyes.

Quirking an eyebrow, Lily followed Alice's wistful gaze, smiling as she saw who was her object of such romantic affection.

"_He_ wouldn't be a boy with dark black hair and smoldering eyes, would he?" Lily sang.

Blushing to the roots of her blonde hair, Alice modestly looked down, but she took the last steps of the staircase with the broadest beam on her plump face. Even though she would never admit it, she liked being prodded and teased for what she was thinking. She only pretended to not hear what Lily had said bydusting off some invisible yarn from her robes with a nonchalant air that would've made her Etiquette instructor back home proud.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right, of course you don't," Lily teased, adjusting the books in her arms. "It's perfectly obvious how you've been mooning over Sirius Black ever since he bumped into you when he 'accidentally' took the wrong staircase and tried to go up to the girls' dormitories. Myself, I don't really go for guys who crave attention…"

"Then what sort of boys do you like?" Alice asked, primly changing the subject, as only a polite girl would do. Besides, she was quite curious to know more about Lily, who was unlike any other polished girl Alice had ever met. Because she had grown up with girls who never stopped talking about themselves, their houses, their families, or again, themselves, she wasn't prepared for a girl like Lily, who only offered what was asked of her, and never gave any extra juicy details. Alice had been trying to become best friends with her ever since they found out they were going to be roommates - but something always inhibited Lily from getting any closer than just the friendship of two roommates who didn't know anyone other than each other for companionship.

Lily lifted her shoulders in a vague way, tucking a loose thread of hair from one of her French braids behind her ear. That was another thing Alice didn't understand: Lily never changed her hairstyle, always wearing the same French braids in the same position – behind her ears and down her back – as if Lily had never imagined any other way of doing her hair. _One thing at a time, however!_ Alice thought as she gave Lily an encouraging smile.

"I guess…" Lily began, just as they arrived at the floor where their classroom was supposed to be, "I haven't really thought about it. My…parents are quite strict, you know, and say I'm too young to think about dating. And they don't allow me to go out with boys, or even go out to play with them, without chaperones. Anyway," she continued, as if they had gotten too close to a subject she wasn't confident talking about, "I suppose I would like a boy who's my friend, first of all, and who certainly didn't crave attention like Sirius Black plainly does. He gets into those gloomy moods because he just wants to continue the bad boy image he received ever since he was sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin."

Alice peered at Lily, hesitant on whether to pursue asking about her family, but deciding against it. She didn't want to push her away, after all. Instead she chose a safer subject. "Well, you don't know Sirius. I think you're judging him too quickly…he may be a big softie underneath, you know."

Lily cast her a skeptical look; Alice by now knew that Lily tended to be a bit judgmental, yet she merely shrugged this off. Besides, she has nicer things to dream about: she knew for a fact that Sirius was in their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Once they reached the dimly lit classroom,Alice immediately pulled Lily into the back, since she had noticed that Sirius, Remus and James tended to take those same seats in their other classes.

As the desks served three chairs and almost every desk was now full, Alice was hoping that Sirius might get left with an odd seat and take his place beside her, but in spite of her wishes, a girl with a long black braid took the seat instead, setting her books on the table and her hands on her lap, looking bored and impatient. _Wait, isn't that the Riona girl?_ Alice wondered.

Trying not to be annoyed, Alice faced the front and examined the room instead. It was as large as her sitting room at home, which was a considerable comparison; the classroom managed to fit a little more than a dozen desks, their chairs, a long counter of oak drawers at the front of the room, one wall with built-in bookshelves that were stuffed in a neat and orderly manner, and two commanding oak armoires at either end of the room. Like all the other classrooms, the walls were of plain mahogany paneling, but the lighting was quite faint. The room was starting to fill by each passing minute, but Alice didn't see Sirius, James or Remus anywhere.

Sure enough however, the boys trampled inside a second after Alice's assessment. All three of them looked exhausted as they sat down, sweat glistening from their brows; only James was wearing a grin – a quite triumphant one to be sure. He winked at Alice as he noticed her look, and elbowed Sirius on the side. Sirius apparently wasn't paying attention, because he and Remus were whispering and glancing at the front of the room at sporadic moments. The boys had somehow gotten seats directly behind Alice, Lily, and Riona, and since class hadn't begun yet, they figured they were entitled to be as annoying as they wanted to be.

"Oy, Princess Alice," James hissed, poking her in the back as Remus and Sirius continued to talk quietly while examining something inside Remus's knapsack.

Alice sighed. She detested nicknames for herself. Nonetheless, she turned around – if only to scope out Sirius, who was sitting beside James. "Yes?"

"Are your heartstrings singing for a certain arrogant bloke we all know and try to love?" asked James, his hazel eyes twinkling mischievously.

A crimson flush spread over Alice's complexion as if a fire had ignited inside her head, and for a moment she was too flabbergasted to come up with a comeback for James's cheekiness.

"She doesn't know what you're talking about," Lily put in, turning around as well.

Glorying from Lily's sudden defence, her bright blush dulled into a faint pink and Alice raised her chin in defiance of James's knowing smile. "That's right. Besides, even if I did, I wouldn't talk over such things with _you_."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a _boy_," Alice responded primly. "Girls don't talk about such things with boys. It isn't proper."

James gawked at her as if he had never before heard anything like Alice's simple yet baffling – at least to him – explanation.

"What, do I have half a brain or something?" asked James, scowling.

Lily gave him her sweetest smile. "That question proves your brain capacity exactly, James Potter."

Giggling, she and Alice exchanged amused looks and swiveled around in their chairs to face the front. Riona, Alice had noticed, turned her head swiftly away, as though not to be caught listening to their conversation. _Slytherins. They never change._ Alice shook her head.

"Oy, Princess!"

_Boys never change either._ "What?" Alice asked in exasperation, not bothering to turn around.

"I can help you out with your bloke, you know," James said in a stage whisper. "I _am_ his friend and all –"

"What bloke?" Sirius suddenly asked. Alice could have sworn that the floor had gone out beneath her as she stood frozen in her chair.

"A bloke I know and you don't," was James's smooth answer as Alice and Lily whipped around in their seats. "So go back to planning a way to get into Slytherin house, Black – your _useless_ planning, anyway."

"It's worth trying," said Remus, shrugging. He looked as if he didn't believe in whatever plan they were working on, however. "Besides, Professor Warpupple might lend us a hand…he's nice to students."

"And why are you being so nice to me?" Alice countered, now that she was safe in knowing Sirius didn't suspect her of being his most adoring fan. He and Remus had taken James's advice and returned to their mysterious whispers.

James lifted a hand carelessly, as if to say, _Why not?_ But Alice sensed, or rather suspected, that he had his own plans of extending a helping hand to her.

It seemed that Lily had the same feeling, for she murmured to Alice underneath her breath, "He's up to something."

* * *

_What, did they temporarily forget that I'm right in front of them? I can hear their whispers,_ James thought irritably. "I'm not up to anything. Have a little faith, will you? What's happening to the world? No one can even try to trust anyone, even if they try to do an act of kindness…"

He shook his head in great imitation of his Great-Uncle Homer, who was always complaining about the fall of humankind and other trivial matters. _Girls are too suspicious for their own good. Besides, even if I do have my own plans for helping Alice, doesn't she get something in return? What's the big deal?_

But he decided not to push too far, in case his marvelous plan might backfire on him. "Well, if you ever get down from your pedestal and think that you might need help in, uh, getting what you want, you know where to find me." James finished off with a wink and titled back in his chair, giving the air of a finished conversation. The girls, with a last look that was mixed with some admiration (James's wink never failed), finally turned around.

_Right, so I have Alice in my pocket. Girls are so easy to manipulate whenever they fancy a bloke. All that's left is for the main target._ At this his clever gaze drifted to Sirius, and he grinned.

Ever since the night of the Sorting, all Remus and James had heard in their dormitory – besides Peter Pettigrew's snores at night – was Sirius's insistent growling: _Why didn't I get into Slytherin?_ or _What did I do wrong?_ or _All you Gryffindors stink! Literally stink!_ Never mind that Remus and James, whom Sirius had speedily befriended, were Gryffindors; no, all Sirius could think about was getting re-sorted into Slytherin and the acceptance he would receive once he was there.

Well, James had had enough. It seemed as though he were the only one who knew that Sirius belonged in Gryffindor; Remus was helping Sirius because he claimed to feel sorry for him – but James knew he only wanted Sirius to shut up about his re-sorting – and the rest of the Gryffindors had given Sirius the cold shoulder so often that James wondered why Sirius hadn't been permanently hexed yet. James was determined not to feel sorry for Sirius, since he knew that was what Sirius wanted so that James would help him.

In his eyes, Sirius demonstrated all of that courage and nobility the Sorting Hat had been prattling on about. This had been plainly proven in the last several days. Who else would've been bold enough to find a way up into the girls' dormitory without fear of getting caught (even though James had dared Sirius to)? Who else would ignore the antagonism that engulfed the Gryffindor common room whenever Sirius came in alone or with anyone else?

James had turned a deafened ear to the whispers and scowls of the Gryffindors who had advised him to stay away from Sirius, a boy whom everyone knew (even James, in all of his blind trust) came from a family that was rumored to be sinking into the dark arts. James Potter, the son of a respected and leading Auror, knew better than most of the danger the dark arts held for anyone who didn't like them, but he felt that Sirius didn't fall into that category. Or rather, he wanted to believe so. And when James set his mind on something, nothing could move him. Whether Sirius liked it or not, Sirius was staying in Gryffindor.

_And a little...persuasion wouldn't hurt in the process,_ James thought, placing his chin on his upraised palm as he looked over at Remus and Sirius, who were now counting the amount of gold they had, "just in case," as Sirius had told them, their original plan wouldn't work.

But James's strategy were momentarily thwarted as Professor Warpupple hastened into the room with his bony arms filled with mismatched papers. The class, which had been reveling in the rare minutes of the professor's tardiness, promptly became quiet. In the week the students had attended Warpupple's class, the taunts of the professor's name had ended because, somehow, no one could really make fun of Warpupple. He was different from the rest of their professors because students realized that Warpupple actually valued what they thought, which was good and bad: sometimes thinking was hard to do.

"I apologize, everyone," said a gasping Warpupple, tossing his papers over his shoulder and collapsing on his chair. "I have been in the process of gathering specimens for class study, and I was stalled in my search by…"

At the word "specimens," the class's spirits soared with anticipation, but the professor seemed to sense this, and quickly squashed their hopes. "Well, no need to go into further explanation," he said cheerily. "You all know that you will practice your lessons when you are ready, nd you're almost there!Please turn to page thirty-six in your text. We will be starting on hexes today - see, we're getting somewhere - Gideon Prewett, your quill doesn't go belong in Valeria's hair, son - although it does make a nice hair ornament, doesn't it?"

_Ah, hexes. Now this is something very educational,_ James thought, smiling and actually lifting his head from the class textbook to pay attention for the first time in the entire week.

"Do you have a quill I could borrow?" whispered the black-haired girl sitting next to Alice. Her pale face had turned to James, Sirius and Remus, ducking so that Warpupple couldn't catch her. This was unncessary however, since Warpupple was assisting poor Valeria in taking out the quill tangled in her hair while explaining the remarkable stickiness of the quill.

James and Sirius ruffled through their bulging, jumbled knapsacks, but in the end Remus (most likely because he actually knew whether he had a spare quill or not) handed the girl a blue-feathered quill from his robes' pocket.

"Thank you," the girl murmured, taking the quill with her eyes cast down. Yet even though she was attempting to calm her wavering voice, James noticed that her fingers were trembling slightly, as though she wasn't used to asking anyone for anything.

* * *

As Riona turned around to face the front with the boy's quill in her hand, she fought to hold back a blush treacherously creeping over her face. Even if it was quite embarrassing to be asking for anything, Riona was satisfied that those boys hadn't played a joke on her, as she thought they would if she asked to borrow a quill. _At least,_ she thought, jotting down the notes Warpupple was finally dictating to them, _they were nicer than the girl next to me would've been._ She gave a wary glance at the girl whom the boy behind them had called Alice; Riona had never gotten along well with girls, and it seemed as if attending Hogwarts wasn't going to change that pattern. _But not like it matters if she likes me or not,_ she thought with a toss of her head, ignoring the lingering doubt that picked at heart.

Slytherins aren't supposed to care what other people, much less foul _Gryffindors_, thought of them. Slytherins were above such mundane concerns. Slytherins were above everyone else, and need not wonder of whom they're stepping upon in order to reach for their ultimate goals.

Or so the Slytherin prefect, Eugene Bane, had declared to them as soon as the Slytherin first years had arrived in their common room, a week ago. And while every first year promptly nodded his or her aristocratic head with murmurs of approval, Riona had been wondering when they were going to be shown to their dormitories, for she had felt exhausted from her journey.

She had never been one to fancy the lengthy discussion of bloodlines, genealogies, or whose dead great-uncle had left them the most expensive trust fund. That was one of the reasons Riona had never adapted to her family's social circles very well, and why all the children back home accused her of being too snooty, even for a pureblood. _As if that were possible,_ Riona thought, rolling her eyes.

What Riona did care about, however, was getting what she wanted, at the time and place she desired. She didn't care what she had to do to catch whatever whim wandered into her mind. Even the Sorting Hat knew this when Riona had been sitting on the stool with a thick sense of foreboding drumming in her ears: _Ah, you seek desires to be fulfilled, and crave for means to get to them as quickly and as efficiently as you like. Slytherin will help you in this journey…_

What did she care if she was placed in Slytherin? If the Sorting Hat was right, and her House was able to help her find the answers she longed to discover one day, then Riona was content. She had no loyalties, preferences, or friendships with any other House at Hogwarts, so she didn't see why entering Slytherin was such a big deal. In fact, she was rather pleased with being a Slytherin so far: no one in her House asked her nosy questions or pestered her into joining "outings" (even as she thought this, Riona mentally cringed) with her fellow Slytherins. Riona was left alone when she wanted to be, and was welcomed whenever she had a fancy to chat. That was all she wanted.

Leaning her head against her palm, Riona wrote down the indications to the Bat-Bogey Hex, drawing little bats as dots for her _I_'s as Warpupple distractedly told them how a student permanently sprouted wings by using the hex in an incorrect manner. The bats she was doodling somehow reminded her of home – not that she lived in a cavern; oh no, her father would be horrified of even that implication. He always made sure to insist that the Dyrdras were a prehistoric pureblood family, whatever that meant. But the bats she was drawing looked back at her with the same small, hollow eyes Riona's father had…the same gaze of accusation mixed with unease that she had received ever since she was five, when _it_ happened.

Riona always referred to that moment as _it_, as if everything else that had happened before was part of someone else's life, an imaginary girl in an make-believe world, filled with paper flowers and hand-painted sunsets. After _it_ happened however, the paper flowers crumbled and the sunset's paint was streaked with blank gashes in the shape of fingers, which had tried to erase any recollection of its existence.

But she could still remember. Riona fought to remember, if only for the reassurance that she had lived at a time when she didn't know fear, death, or sorrow; if only to know that she had not dreamt of those days in her sleep.

* * *

Lily picked up her books as soon as Warpupple dismissed them, following Alice (who was stalking Sirius and Company) out of the classroom. But the girl who had been sitting next to Alice didn't appear to have heard the professor's dismissal, for she was still doodling on her piece of parchment.

"Hey, class is over," Lily told her, putting a hand on the girl's narrow shoulder.

The girl jumped at Lily's touch, startled. She glanced at Warpupple, who was mumbling to himself while crawling on his knees, apparently searching for something on the floor. As the girl stood up, Lily noticed thatshewas as "lean as a beanstalk," as her Grandfather Harry would say whenever Lily had gotten too thin. Her fingers stained with quill ink, the girl peered at Lily with caution.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Lily, unsure of why she was looking at her with such suspicion. As she always did when she was nervous however, Lily tried to talk the awkwardness away.

"I don't blame you for not paying attention – the bat-bogey hex doesn't seem to be that interesting...I'd rather some experience with it, wouldn't you?"

The pale girl shrugged. "I suppose. But I was paying attention." She held up her parchment, which was jammed pack with scribbled notes. "It's just that I had more important things on my mind." And with that, she walked past Lily and out the door to join the crowds of commuting students.

_Okaaay, so I guess my small chat isn't that popular with her,_ Lily thought. _Better find some new lines._ She trailed into the corridor, where Alice was waiting for her with great impatience.

"He's already walking to his next class!" Alice moaned, bouncing on her toes, her bow fidgeting excitedly on her head. "If we hurry, we can catch up to him!"

Lily pulled back on the end of Alice's robes' sleeve just as her friend was getting ready to shoot after Prince Sirius Black. "Hold on, Alice. May I give you a piece of advice?"

"Sure," Alice said, clearly trying to contain her haste as she tapped her right foot. "But make it a quick piece of advice, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Lily saluted. "Let me tell you what my older, and more experienced, cousin Gwen told me: if you chase after a boy, you'll look like a fool. If you don't, you'll look like a girl that he could be interested in. Quick enough?"

Alice stared at her with an open mouth. But she remembered yet another rule of etiquette, and she promptly clicked it closed.

"Yes, quite."


	7. Six: The Exemblem

_ShakuraBing: Thank you! The Marauders are so much fun to write about!_

_Gigi94: Thanks! Yes, Riona is a mite…interesting. She has a story behind her, that's for sure. You'll find more about her later! HAHA, Alice and Sirius are an unlikely pair, but…that relationship has its reason too!_

_Sarah: Wow, thank you! It's fun to write about them, but I make sure to create expansive backgrounds so that they'll be "in depth," as you say. I'm happy you like Alice! _

_Heather: Woooow, thank you so much! That means a lot to me._

_Jenn87: Thanks for reading._

* * *

**Six**: Through Thick and Thin

Kicking at a rock the size of his hand with unrestrained vigor, Sirius watched as it flew over the ground and knocked into the bushy leaves of a lanky tree on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. A loud squawk burst into the late summer afternoon, followed by a menacing growl, which grew louder and angrier as Sirius, Remus and James squinted curiously into the black folds of the wood whose branches curved and swayed like fingers temptingly gesturing them to enter the forest.

"What do you reckon is in there?" James asked, grinning in delight. The snarls of the unknown creature in the forest apparently increased his interest.

"Trolls…centaurs…werewolves, maybe," said Remus casually, eyeing James while he played with some grass blades he had plucked from the ground.

"Trolls and centaurs probably," Sirius agreed, taking the rock James offered him and aiming it in the direction of the creature's growls. "But I don't think even that old coot of a headmaster would place something as dangerous as werewolves in there, do you? You can control centaurs and trolls, but werewolves are bloodthirsty things."

_Oh yes, definitely._ Remus thought with an unchecked scowl. _I'm so thirsty I want to bite your bloody neck, only that it's too skinny for my liking._ "It's late. We better go inside," he said shortly, throwing aside the blades of grass and walking back to the castle with heavy steps.

"What's the matter? It's not even curfew yet!" James protested, running after Remus. "Don't tell me you're going to _study_, Rem – it's Saturday night, for Merlin's sake!"

"There's more important things to do than throw rocks at things you can't even see in a forest," Remus snapped, not stopping to wait for James and making his way to the lit courtyard entrance.

"Ah, let him go," Sirius said, waving a dismissive hand at Remus's disappearing frame. "He's no fun. Come on; let's go see Tonsberry. I bet I can convince him this time to talk to the Headmaster and get me re-sorted."

James let out a growl that was not unlike the snarls of the unknown forest creature. "I tell you it's not going to work! Get over it, Sirius!"

"It is too going to work. If not, we'll resort to Plan C…"

Their bantering voices trailed off into the silence of the soft twilight while Remus marched into the stone corridor of the ground floor, his chest heaving with contained fury. _I don't know why I even try. I'll never fit into this world…I'll always be the bloodthirsty outcast. How could I even believe that I could make friends here? Or what's even more stupid, how I could think I could eventually tell them that I'm a werewolf? Mum and Dad were right. I can't trust anyone with my secret._

Remus paused in mid-step, remembering Sirius's look of disgust mixed with anxiety when he spoke of werewolves hidden in the Forbidden Forest. And James! He hadn't even bothered to disagree with Sirius! To think that Remus believed James might be the one he could tell his secret to, the friend he had always wanted to help carry even the tiniest part of the cursed burden he had been trying to stand under for four arduous years…

Fighting a flood of humiliation and anguish that threatened to drown him, Remus swallowed and slid down onto the cold floor, the flames of the lit torches flickering over his agitated face. He wished, for the umpteenth time in his life, that he were someone else. One of the laughing, carefree boys he had always envied from his bedroom window at home, running through the open fields in his small town, their arms spread wide as if they wanted to catch the globe and play football with it. Remus couldn't play with them; at that age, he didn't fully understand the reactions of people to his condition. Being a werewolf was frightening, of course, but he didn't want to hurt anyone – why would anyone be scared of him? His parents understood how the world worked, and they didn't allow Remus to play with any child that they didn't know or hadn't talked to first, and even then they would always stay with him as he played, silent guards holding sway over a little boy's childhood. Remus knew they wanted what was best for him – he had no doubt of that. Gulliver and Leona Lupin had always been affectionate and supportive of Remus in whatever he did, as was his little sister Romalia.

Even so, he never failed to make the same wish on his birthday cake's dancing candles, on a shooting star, or even when he saw a frog (according to his mother's superstition): if only he could be normal. Just like everyone else. And then he remembered what his mother had told him, the night before he left for school…

_"Remus," his mother said quietly, placing a hand on her son's shoulder as he was packing his trunk. "I need to speak with you." _

Remus placed his final pair of socks into the overstuffed trunk and turned around, startled at the intense gaze his mother's tender gray eyes held him in.

"Remus my love, your new school is going to be a very different experience for you. It's not going have the comforts this home has given you. You must take special care in everything, Remus, especially with your being a werewolf. Do you understand?"

Remus nodded mutely and leaned against the sturdy metal trunk behind him. Leona Lupin sat on the tip of Remus's twin-sized bed, straightening out the wrinkled cotton bedspread with her small hand, her eyes still binding Remus's with strength, as if she wanted to transmit fortitude to her son that she knew he needed.

"You must be brave and strong, Remus. Some children, and even adults, will speak of werewolves in ways that may hurt your feelings. Don't blame them, though – remember that before you were bitten, you were also afraid of werewolves, but only because you were ignorant of their actual condition. Headmaster Dumbledore promised that he'd accommodate you in every way that he can, especially during the phases of the full moon. If it weren't for him, your father and I wouldn't even think of sending you off to Hogwarts."

"But," Remus hesitated, sitting down on his closed trunk across from his mother, "No one at the school knows that I'm a werewolf, and you know I understand I can't tell anyone what I am…" At this he shifted uncomfortably, not daring to dwell on the wish that he might be able to find a friend he could maybe, just maybe, relate his secret to. "But I promise you I won't get into trouble. I know I'm different…I can't afford to attract attention, right?"

His mother made a choking sound, and she clasped a hand to her throat, her eyes filling. She reached out a hand to Remus, who looked up at her in the admiration of a son whose mother still remained beautiful throughout all these years. The moonlight from the window caressed his mother's rose complexion, petted her dark brown, curly hair, and made her tears glisten.

"You are different, my love," Leona murmured, ruffling her son's hair, "But that doesn't mean you don't belong in this world. You'll learn, in time I hope, that the world is made up of unique and dissimilar things that are all significant in the long and confusing chain called life." She smiled as she noticed her son's puzzled look, but went on. "I know it's hard for you to understand this now, but your being a werewolf is not your bane, nor will it forbid you to have a full, happy life. I'm not saying it won't be hard, but I am saying that you – Remus – can make it happy if you choose to. Fate has given you your condition because it knows you're capable of handling it."

His mother was right: Remus still didn't understand what she meant, but at least his memory of her comforting words calmed the battling anger raging inside of him. He sighed and stood up, dusting off his robes. _I think I'll write a letter home. I haven't done that in a while._

As Remus walked up the Grand Staircase to the Gryffindor common room, footsteps walking down in the opposite direction caught his attention. They were far away at first, but he was still able to hear them because of his heightened senses (one of the rare perks that came of being a werewolf). He continued walking upstairs until he met the girl who had been stepping down – the girl in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the one who had asked for a spare quill.

The girl stopped in mid-step, apparently surprised to see him. "Hello."

"Hi," said Remus in return, feeling awkward. He had never been comfortable around girls; the only girl being of his acquaintance was his little sister, but she didn't really count. All she did was drool and wail when she was a baby, and nag and follow him as she grew older – this didn't give Remus an introduction in how to treat other girls, since he didn't have much experience with them except in pushing his sister away or locking her in a closet when she got really annoying. But Remus had a feeling he couldn't do that with the rest of girlkind.

"Sorry –" the girl began.

But Remus, thinking that she apologized for almost bumping into him on the dim stairwell, shrugged. "No problem."

" – for not giving you your quill back sooner," the girl finished, digging his blue-feathered quill out of her robes. "I know two weeks have passed since you leant it to me, but I always forgot to give it back."

He took the quill from her outstretched hand and pocketed it. Actually, he hadn't remembered about the quill until this evening. The girl gave him a demanding look, as though she was expecting him to berate her for borrowing it for so long.

"It's all right," said Remus. "I don't mind."

With arched, confused eyebrows, the girl examined him. "Oh," was all she said, before she sifted past him, the longest braid Remus had ever seen trailing behind her as she stepped down the remaining stairs.

* * *

"That Tonsberry is an incompetent oaf!" Sirius roared, plopping down on an overstuffed crimson armchair with a furious twist of his face. "'Black, we do not re-sort out students here. What's done is done. Now go and do the homework I'm sure you have yet to do,'" he muttered in a bad imitation of Tonsberry's stuffy voice. He shot James a dark look. "And you could've at least stayed with me to talk to him – you had to run off as soon as arrived in his office!"

"I had some stuff to take care of." James fought a smile as he sat down across from his friend – but this didn't escape Sirius's sharp eyes.

"And don't smile like that. You needn't say 'I told you so,' – your face says it all."

"I told you so," James sang, folding his arms behind his head in a stance of a triumphant victor. "You might as well take it like a man, mate. You're a Gryffindor, through and through."

Sirius's mind involuntary snapped to the memory of his mother saying almost the exact same thing about his being a Black, "through and through, whether you like it or not!" It was funny; just when he had the chance to go against his mother's belief that he wasn't a proud Black or his father's demand to uphold the family honor, all Sirius wanted was to go into the very place where he could meet both of his parents' approval. It was in Slytherin that he would feel like he was in his own ambiance: a prince of the purebloods, accepted, admired, and most of all – known. Of all things, Sirius hated to be ignored or trampled upon as if he were just anyone. To the Gryffindors, he was no one, just the son of a family who was rumored to be playing with the dark arts; but to the Slytherins, Sirius was a model of the pureblood ancestry, talent, and honor.

Not that they were treating him as such anymore. Even his family, with the exception of Andromeda, had turned their backs on him. Who would've thought a Black could be sorted into Gryffindor? The very idea was preposterous! As many of the Slytherins had hissed to him as they passed Sirius in the school hallways, Sirius probably _wanted_ to be in Gryffindor. He most likely bribed the professors to tamper with the Sorting Hat. He was a blood-traitor, a disgrace on the name of Black. To be in league with Gryffindors clearly showed Sirius's true colors – that he was against everything Slytherin stood for.

Andromeda was not quite as condemning.

_"Okay, the joke's over, Sirius," she had told him the day after the Sorting, as soon as she caught sight of him in the third-floor corridor at a recess of classes. _

Sirius stared at her. "You think this is all a joke? Tell me who did it, just tell me, and I'll make sure the bloke won't move again!" He fingered the wand in his pocket with a vengeful glare.

Andromeda sighed and pushed back the bangs over her forehead, her eyes exasperated. "No, you idiot. I mean **you** stop the joke! It's not funny anymore, Sirius. Your parents, not to mention my parents, Aunt Zelma, Great-Uncle Bruton, and Great-Grandmother Litana are off their bottoms with anger. I've had non-stop letters flying in, even when I was asleep, from our whole dear family. They seem to think your being a bloody Gryffindor is all my fault." She scowled at him. "And I depend on you to make them see the truth."

:"Do you think that I would pull a joke this revolting that deals with **my** life?" Sirius demanded, meeting his cousin's glare with his own. "I was dying to get into Slytherin! I never wanted to be in Gryffindor, Andra, **ever**. Not even as a joke."

The use of his childhood nickname for her apparently calmed Andromeda down, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, I believe you. But even so, I'm sending all of the letters to your dormitory. Anyway…all I can say, then, is that my prayers are with you." She shook her head, a crooked smile spreading over her face. "It figures that you had to do something to upset not only your parents but all of the snobby purebloods on your first day in school."

"Believe me," Sirius said sourly, mentally cringing at the unopened letters from his parents that were still on his bed, "If I could change it, I would. I know there's been a mistake somewhere. I'm a Slytherin!"

At this Andromeda's mirth at her cousin's predicament mellowed. She played with her bangs, as she usually did when she was distracted. Looking around the busy hallway Andromeda pulled her cousin aside into a corner behind a statute of Boris the Bewildered.

"Look," she said after a moment, fiddling with her Slytherin prefect badge, "Your being the only boy I can stand in our family, I'll let you in on something. But this is personal, and you better not mouth it to anyone. If you do, well…" Her dark eyes glittered with pride, "They don't call me best in fifth-year potions for anything. I can turn you into a puddle of slime before you even open your mouth and tell me to stop, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Sirius agreed, a thrill of anticipation running through him despite his present worries. Whenever Andromeda had a secret to tell him, it was always delightfully interesting, fun, or wicked.

"All right," said Andromeda, and she took a deep breath. "Well, you know how my parents are. You think your parents are set on getting you into Slytherin, but my parents are ten times worse. They think Slytherin is the only place to be, and my father told me he'd disinherit me if I would ever drop out from Slytherin for any reason. Just think if I wasn't even **sorted** into Slytherin, and you get the picture.

"The day of my Sorting, I was a nervous wreck. Don't ask me how I knew, but I felt like I wasn't going to be sorted into Slytherin. Maybe it was because I didn't…anyway, when the Sorting Hat was placed on my head, all I could think was that I only wanted to be in Slytherin. That's all I desired, hoped for, and wished. And you know how the Sorting Hat makes those little comments inside your head, as if it could understand you?"

Sirius nodded, remembering his own Sorting. The old, battered Hat wouldn't stop prattling inside his mind.

"Well," Andromeda continued, looking down on her Slytherin badge, "It said that I could very well fit into Ravenclaw, or even Gryffindor." She said this with a sad glance at Sirius. "But I panicked and begged it not to sort me anywhere but Slytherin. And so it did."

"So…" Sirius licked his lips, trying to comprehend his cousin's momentary lack of the spirit he had always admired in her, "You just **asked**, and the stupid hat did as it was told?"

"I'm in Slytherin, aren't I?" Andromeda shrugged. "And I'm still part of the Black family. You don't know what it's like, to have parents who corner you into a place where you have no where to turn to, no one to help you…" She caught Sirius looking away, and she paused. "No, you probably do know. "

But then an idea sparked into Sirius's head. "Wait, maybe I can get the Sorting Hat, command it to put me in Slytherin, and pretend like none of this ever happened!"

"You really are thick, aren't you?" Andromeda said in disapproval. "Look, if you were sorted into Gryffindor without even thinking of Slytherin, that means you belong in Gryffindor, Sirius. You can't go against what you are. Don't commit my mistake."

But Sirius had shrugged off his cousin's bit of advice. He had been in earnest planning the past three weeks, jumping from one failed strategy to the next. He had even attempted to steal the Sorting Hat, but the bloody gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's entrance (where a sixth year had told him the Sorting Hat was kept) was too stubborn not to let Sirius through, much to his chagrin (and to the health of Sirius's foot, since he had kicked the stone gargoyle more times than he can count). But with each passing day, he was getting more and more desperate. His hope of ever being accepted at Hogwarts was fading away as quickly as the setting sun's rays were melting into darkness outside.

"Earth to Sirius!" James called, snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Wake up! Wake up! If you don't, I'll knick the Chocolate Frogs you hid under your bed…"

"No, you won't," Sirius frowned, his train of thought broken.

"Glad to have you back," James said, examining Sirius's harried face. "Look, I'm sorry if I haven't been that supportive of you getting into Slytherin. I, uh, I know that you'll get into the right House soon, mate."

* * *

_That is, the actual **right** House!_ James thought. He still hadn't given up on his plan to shut Sirius's whining mouth. No, indeed: by this time, he had enough of Sirius's growls to launch into his reserved emergency strategy: Plan Pink Panties (he had always wanted to call a plan that since it made him snigger every time he thought it).

_And as Dad always says, don't do something tomorrow that you could've done yesterday…or something like that._ James drummed his fingers on his armrest, squinting at Sirius, who was glaring into the roaring fire crackling away before them.

"Oy, Sirius."

"Yeah?" Sirius asked, sighing and turning to face James. For one being so young, James thought, he sure did mope around a lot.

"I've heard some of the Gryffindors talking about you."

"When _don't_ they?"

"No, no…I mean, a group of third years – was it third years or sixth years? – anyway, a group of Gryffindors were saying yesterday how you didn't seem like any of your family members at all. You know, cold…kind of mean…looking like they have a dungbomb stuck up their arse…"

Sirius scowled. "Not all of them look like that. Andromeda doesn't, anyway."

James waved a dismissive hand, sticking his feet out and placing them on the oak center table in between them. "Yeah, of course not. Andromeda seems nice. But I'm talking about how the Gryffindors, who thought that you were the scum of the earth just a measly few weeks ago, are now singing your praises, mate." He stuck out a finger and pointed at Sirius's chest for emphasis, winking. "_Your_ praises."

In the short time he had known him, James already understood the "honor," also known as enormous conceit, of Sirius. Of course, he never swayed this over his friends; yet Sirius never bothered to correct anyone's exaggerated praise of him or failed to add a little bit of something he had done quite bravely/wisely/or mischievously that might be hailed in front of his friends. But something that was far more important and deadly useful, James pondered, were the small hints Sirius had involuntarily dropped about how he kind of felt out of place at home, without dodging into any specifics. Nevertheless James understood enough. Remembering this, James had to fight down a sneaky grin as he examined the proud glow spreading over Sirius's face.

"Well," Sirius began, attempting to look humble but failing miserably, "I've never really _felt_ part of my family, you know. My mother even tells me I'm not a true Black." At these words however, something seemed to trigger inside of him, for his smile dematerialized into a melancholy grimace once more.

James quickly launched into a counter attack. "Then it must show mate, because the Gryffindors were saying how they admire your talent in class, how you're fun to be around, and even –" He lowered his voice into a exultant, conspiratorial whisper, "Your aristocratic complexion."

Arching his dark eyebrows, Sirius settled back into his armchair, rubbing his chin in his usual gesture of consideration (although James suspected this was also a reason to touch his fair skin, the trademark of an ancient pureblood). "I guess I am kind of smart in class…I don't study though. Hate those bloody books."

_Time to switch to tempting mode._ James nodded wisely. "Yeah, books are annoying things. But you know, Sirius…when I was listening to these Gryffindors prattling on about how great you seem to be, they kind of held back."

Sirius frowned, his gaze clouding. "How so?"

Sighing, James shrugged and leaned forward with an air of understanding. "They just seem to think you don't want to belong here. And if you don't want to belong, why should they extend a friendly hand to you, eh?"

"If they want me to belong so much, they should be the ones extending the friendly hands," Sirius shot back.

_Whoa, hold on there, Potter. Don't rush into this._ "Right, right," James said in a soothing voice. "Well, you know how the Gryffindors can be so bloody proud. I mean, you know and I know that they don't have the right to be so arrogant. They're scared of saying this stuff to _you_, the object of their wonder! But someone's gotta be the better man, don't you think?"

"So you're saying that _I_ should go up to them and put them in their place…nicely?"

"I'm saying that I bet if you show that you want to belong in Gryffindor, these snooty Gryffindors will be following you and becoming your number one fans!" James cried, throwing his hands up eagerly. "Don't you want to be looked up to like you were before?"

A hint of excitement seemed to tiptoe into Sirius's black eyes, but it was circumvented by doubt. "Are you sure they were saying this? It doesn't seem that Gryffindors would change from being high and mighty busybodies to welcoming fans, you know?"

James placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Would I lie to you?" _Without good, thoughtful, and heroic intentions, that is._

Sirius burst into a grin and lifted his right shoulder sheepishly. "No, I guess not. So they really said that stuff about me?"

"I'm not only sure of it," James began, a march of victory playing loudly in his chest, "But I can prove it. And Remus can be our witness."

At this moment, as though called out of the blue by James's astute persuasion, Remus walked in through the portrait hole, looking quite tired and cold. He spotted James and Sirius by the fire, smiled, and walked over to warm himself.

"Did Tonsberry kick you out from his office, then?" Remus asked in a joking tone, taking off his cloak and letting it fall to the crimson carpet.

_Hm, guess he isn't angry with us anymore. Well, so much the better. He had me worried there for a minute…studying on a Saturday!_

James stood up and clapped a hand over Remus's shoulder. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I was just telling Sirius of the conversation I heard about him a few days ago, remember?"

Remus looked at him blankly. "Erm, not –"

"Right! It was _not_ a few days ago!" James went on, casting a furtive glance at Sirius, "You're absolutely correct, Rem. The conversation I heard happened a week ago…when, ah, Sirius found the way into the girls' dormitory without taking the stairs!"

Sirius smiled to himself. "Yes, I admit that was a bit clever of me. See, the stairs disappear when boys try to go there. I thought the walls would be more likely –"

"Excellent plan, really Sirius, excellent," said James, nodding. "So Remus, being the smart bloke that he is, knew that you wouldn't believe us if we told you the Gryffindors are ready to welcome you with open arms. And what did you do, Rem, in order for our best mate to believe us that conversation _really_ happened?" At this he subtly raised his eyebrows at Remus, who was looking like someone who had been asked to discover a way to operate one of those weird Muggle contraptions called a toaster.

"I, uh," Remus risked a glance at Sirius, who was looking at him expectantly. "I recorded the conversation?"

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed, patting him on the back. He turned to Sirius. "Isn't that brilliant? How did you record the conversation, Rem?"

Really getting into his role now since he saw no clue of comprehending it, Remus launched on. "I recorded it on an exemblem, of course."

James gave him a sly wink and nodded. "Yes, an exemblem. Kind of an old way to do things, but works just the same, doesn't it?"

"Well, where is it?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"Right here!" James dug the small oval disk out of his robes' pockets with a triumphant look and sat down. "Ah, Remus gave it to me when he was done. Want to open it, Remus?"

Remus eyed James, wearing a look that clearly spoke for itself: _You're a nutter._ "Sure," he said out loud, and took out his wand to tap the disk three times.

As James had said, an exemblem was a preliminary device to record anything, and the sounds that were emitting from the metal, egg-shaped disk in James's hand were fuzzy and appeared to be coming from far away. But a slight clicking noise was also added to the background, causing James to tap his wand once more to increase the volume. All three boys cocked their ears to hear everything, two of them not knowing what they would be listening to. Only James wore a smile.

"_Don't you think that Sirius Black fellow is cool?_" asked a young girl's voice over the clacking noise.

_"Oh yes! Isn't he so handsome? His pale skin is so aristocratic!"_ squeaked another girl.

_"And isn't he so talented in class?_" a rather deep male voice observed.

_"He's so fun to be around! I wish he would really want to belong in Gryffindor!"_ exclaimed an unusually high-pitched voice.

"_But he doesn't seem to like being here…"_ mourned the first girl, giving a loud sniff interrupted by a louder CLACK of the exemblem.

"_No matter! We will try to welcome him as the wonderful boy we all know he is but secretly don't want him to find out!_" cried the boy.

James gave a quick tap at the disk again, and it promptly became quiet. Remus gave James an unbelieving, half-disgusted look, while Sirius positively glowed, eating all this up.

"Wow! The Gryffindors really seem to like me!" Sirius beamed, looking happy for the first time in weeks. "Isn't this great, Remus? And I didn't even have to remind them how great I am in class!"

Remus appeared to be trying to think of what to say to this. "Um…yeah."

"But," said James in a dramatic tone as he pocketed the exemblem, "It's too bad that you want to go through with all this rubbish about joining Slytherin, Sirius. It doesn't matter what we Gryffindors think of you since you're leaving us soon."

"Uh…" Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah…well…the Slytherins aren't exactly going to be as welcoming as I thought they would be. You've seen how they treat me in the corridors."

"They hate you," James added, nodding in agreement. "No offense or anything," he hastened at Sirius's scowl, "But I wouldn't call throwing bowtruckles at you when you pass the Greenhouses a sign of welcome."

"You're right," Sirius sighed, looking at his feet, which cast long, jagged shadows over the floor.

"It's not like you won't be welcome here, Sirius," Remus began, rubbing the back of his neck. "You have us. We're your friends."

"Yeah, we can tolerate you better than the Slytherins can," James quipped, making Sirius smile. "We promise not to throw bowtruckles at you."

"Or push you into the lake when you're not looking," Remus continued, grinning, "Without good cause, of course."

"And you've seen what the rest of the Gryffindors think of you!" James patted his pocket, ignoring Remus's loud coughing. "_And_…well, there's a bit of an added proof that I've had hiding for you." He glanced at his watch.

Sirius brightened. "What is it?"

"Yeah, what is it?" Remus asked suspiciously.

James got up again and looked out of the portrait hole. "I told them to come around this time."

"_Who_?"

"Wait, I see them. They're dragging their feet, chattering on…how like _girls_ to do that when a bloke is expecting them at a certain time!"

"Girls?" Sirius and Remus repeated, looking bemused.

Steps echoed into the stone corridor outside, and James left the portrait hole and strode to where Remus and Sirius were sitting. After a minute, Alice Kennicott and Lily Evans sauntered in, their cheeks red from the chilly air outside.

"Sorry we're late," Alice said breathlessly.

Lily held up a bag of breadcrumbs, smiling. "We were feeding the little creatures near the lake. I think they're called Karniffles. They eat the weeds, don't they? Adorable things!"

"They ate out of our hand!" Alice gushed.

Turning to Alice, Lily tapped her in a reminder. "Wasn't their squeaking so cute? It was like they were talking to us. I swear they have their own language."

"I don't think so. They're just little magical beasts, after all," said Alice, shrugging. "But they're so _cute_!"

Throughout these exclamations, James, Remus and Sirius looked at the girls with vacant, confused expressions. To them, Lily and Alice were speaking another language, full of gushing, bubbling, and squeaking.

James was the first to break the rambling, not being able to take it anymore. "Right, cute. Anyway, why'd you come here?"

Alice gave him a puzzled look. "You told us to come here." She glanced at Sirius, her cheeks flushing brighter.

"You said you had something important for us to see," Lily added, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Isn't it true," James demanded, with Remus and Sirius looking on in interest, "That all the Gryffindor girls fancy Sirius?"

Alice stood frozen to her spot, with Lily shooting her sympathetic glances in between casting James loathing stares.

"What makes you think we'd know that?" Lily challenged.

"Because Alice here knows of girls who like Sirius," was James's easy answer. "Don't you Alice?"

"Um," Alice whispered, paling, "I, uh, know of other girls…yeah, _other_ girls…who…erm…might…"

Jumping up, James wrapped an arm around Alice's stiff shoulders. _She looks like she might fall down dead…better take this a notch slower._ "Right, you know of other girls." He turned to Sirius, who was completely nonplussed at the situation. "You see, mates, Alice fancies another Gryffindor bloke who also tells her he knows that there are Gryffindor girls who like Sirius. Don't you, Alice?"

The cold fright that had entrapped Alice seemed to melt, inch by inch, and she slowly nodded. Lily also calmed down, and instead resorted to curiosity as she looked at James, as did Remus.

"Yeah," Alice responded, patting her hair ribbon, "There are other girls who like Sirius, of course…" She quickly added, "Not that I do. Oh no, I don't like Sirius. Nope, not in that way…nope, nope, nope…"

"We get that," James reassured her. He whirled around to Sirius. "Do you have any excuses now, mate?"

Sirius broke into a satisfied grin and folded his arms behind his head. "Nope, nope, nope."


End file.
